


THE SUN WILL RISE (and we will try again)

by tinywhim



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Bottom Thomas Jefferson, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Historical Accuracy? Don't Know Her, M/M, Reincarnation, Top Alexander Hamilton, We love him, ages non canon, french baguette, lafayette is the best boi, smut???, vampire!AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:07:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24004825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinywhim/pseuds/tinywhim
Summary: ❝I'LL GO TO HELL JUST TO SEE YOU SMILE.❞In a world in which sodomy is a sin, Thomas Jefferson is ready to do everything in order to protect the man he loves.[Vampire!AU]
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler, Alexander Hamilton/Thomas Jefferson
Comments: 58
Kudos: 80





	1. WHEN THE AUTHOR INTRODUCES THE STORY

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gagakuma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gagakuma/gifts).



> _We are star-crossed lovers._
> 
> “Thomas!”
> 
> _But please._
> 
> “Alexander!”
> 
> **_Please_** _._
> 
> “Grab my hand!”
> 
> _Let us meet in the middle._


	2. YOU HAVE TO LISTEN CAREFULLY

_**❝Everything comes with a price and taking a life to protect the one you love is not too high a cost.❞** _

**s y n o p s i s**

A story in which a broken man finds his home in the arms of a tired lawyer.

**c a s t**

An infuriating southern gentleman as _Thomas Jefferson_

A human expresso as _Alexander Hamilton_

**d e d i c a t i o n**

To @[gagakuma](https://gagakumadraws.tumblr.com/), who was the one who asked for a collab and got it right away. She supports me and she's the reason this fic gets done. Be sure to check her tumblr for more content.

To those who like to watch these two idiots falling in love with each other. 

Again and again and again. 

This one’s for you. 


	3. DISAPPEAR FROM REALITY AND ENJOY IT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What you need to know about this story:  
> -Jamilton.  
> -The title is from 'True' by twenty one pilot.  
> -Ages are not canon (they are younger, late-20s/ early-30s for Alexander and Mid/late-30s for Thomas)  
> -This is AU. A Vampire!AU actually.  
> -everything will be told in time.  
> -This is a collab with gagakumadraws, I write and she draws, so be sure to check her tumblr out!

Thomas held his breath. 

The man stood out in the crowd despite his small stature. His nose was deeply buried in a book, his eyebrows kissed by a frown while he bit his lower lip as he concentrated on the words he was reading. He clearly didn’t seem to care about his surrounding and the Virginian wondered if he was going to run into someone.

He was not wearing green, which was unsettling for the Southerner who had grown used to the immigrant wearing this atrocious colour and then call it fashion. He was the only one who could pull it off anyway. The man gazed up and met his eyes. Thomas knew that if he had had a heart, it would have stopped. 

He hated himself. He hated himself for the hope he felt as soon as he met those gorgeous brown eyes. He hated himself for wanting to crawl back into his arms and never let go. He hated himself for thinking for just one second that the man in front of him was his. 

Thomas had never thought that he would see his face again. He had been cursed to live without the man he loved and without meeting him in his dreams for the rest of his life. For eternity. The man bumped his shoulder against Thomas’ as he passed by him, not even apologizing, not even sparing him a single glance.

**_“I’ll wait for you, Thomas.”_ **

_No, Alexander, you didn't._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come talk to me on my tumblr.  
> tell me what you thought of it!


	4. I HAVE NEVER SEEN SOMEONE SO TIRED BEFORE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thomas' selfishness starts the game and maybe saves a life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is for @gagakuma (check her tumblr, it's amazing art), for Shanshala, who's been waiting for this project and at last for the wondrous @hello.im.jade (check their insta because they make the best Jamilton fanart ever and I love them so much omg) who put up with me whenever I said I needed to write this fucking chapter.  
> Side notes: This is AU as hell. Historical accuracy? Don't know her. I'll try to update once a week but hey, who knows? I don't really know the updating schedule so...  
> Warnings: Strong language, mentions of death, Thomas' accent.  
> Words: 5734

**chapter 1**

_i have never seen someone so tired before_

Every action has its equal opposite reaction. 

Thomas Jefferson knew that better than anyone else, for example, if he wanted to say something, you could be sure that Alexander fucking Hamilton would say the opposite just to spite him. The Southerner was completely sure that if he were to say “Water is wet”, the Immigrant would do everything in his power to prove him that isn’t. Most of the time, their bickering banters were entertaining. 

Alexander Hamilton was the only man who could match his wit and challenge him, the immigrant kept him on his toes and while he liked it when a cabinet meeting could go without an insult, he regarded his fights with Hamilton with a certain fondness. He did not hate him, contrary to what people thought, but he adored playing with the younger man’s temper, it seemed that it wasn’t the only thing about him that was short. 

It was no secret to anyone that Alexander Hamilton hated Thomas Jefferson’s gut, he spat it at his face at least twice a day, only once if he felt ‘tired’ but Thomas didn’t find it insulting, he found it rather amusing and interesting. Why did the man hate him so much? Sure, they did not hold the same political views but to harbour such a deep hatred for him… Had he really done something to disrespect him apart from retaliating whenever Hamilton would insult him? The Southerner wondered if he should ask him about it, one day. 

Thomas was not going to lie, he knew that Hamilton was a genius and incredibly talented with a pen and it was exactly why the immigrant was dangerous. The man was non-stop, plucking his own wings to use his feathers as quills, he was an Icarus flying too close to the sun and Thomas couldn’t look away from him because Hamilton was a beautiful disaster, painfully annoying, but incredibly beautiful nonetheless.

He perfectly remembered the day he first met the immigrant, it was a few days after he came back from France. He had been summoned to NYC to see George Washington and when he saw James again, the man had only foul things to say regarding the Secretary of the treasury. The thing is that while Thomas trusted James with his life, he also wanted to form his own opinion but when Hamilton started insulting them during the first cabinet meeting, Thomas had to admit that fondness wasn’t the world he would have chosen to sum up his feelings toward the immigrant. 

The kid was loud, abrasive and most importantly, he had Washington’s support which wasn’t fair because it gave him too much power. With the President approving his every move, Hamilton was almost unstoppable and Thomas couldn’t let that happen. Sure, he tried his best to make the man’s political life a nightmare but it didn’t mean that he hated his guts.

He never told anyone how he truly felt about Hamilton, not even his darling James because he knew that the man did not particularly like the immigrant, even though they used to work together at some point, and he knew that his best friend would not understand him. Thomas himself didn’t even comprehend his feelings about Hamilton yet. 

He didn’t love the guy, per se, but he didn’t hate him either. He hated his ideas but he cut the kid some slack because the immigrant sure knew how to defend what he stood for, ge was too intelligent for his own good, too eager to start a fight and maybe it was because he was young and reckless. Thomas noticed that Hamilton fought as if he had nothing to lose and he wondered if it was true. 

“I swear to God if I have to listen to Hamilton talking about his financial plan once again I’m going to die,” James sighed as he took a sip of his drink. “I’m too old for this nonsense.”

“James, you’re in your thirties, you’re fine.”

“I have aged twenty years ever since I’ve met Hamilton.”

“And you dare say that I am the dramatic one in our relationship, Jemmy?” Thomas chuckled and shook his head. 

“Aren’t you bored of listening to him ranting all the time?” James frowned. 

Was he? Thomas couldn’t say. He enjoyed listening to Hamilton if he was being honest, sure, there were days he wished he didn’t have to look at the emerald prick or even hear his voice and while his ideas were atrocious, the man was captivating. Thomas had read many things that the man had written over the years and he could not deny his talent nor his skills when it came to writing. 

“You seem tense, Jemmy,” Thomas noticed. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes. It’s just that…” he sighed. “It’s been months and we’re still fighting to see where we’ll put the capital.”

“NYC is favoured.” Thomas said.

“I know, but I don’t want it to be NYC, it’s far too up in the North.”

“I forgot what a Southerner you are, Jemmy.” Thomas teased. 

“How can you not be exhausted by all of this?”

“I’ve lived in France for five years, French people are more intense than that.”

“Do you always have to bring France in our conversations?”

“Aw come on Jemmy,” he drawled. “I know you love it.”

“It seems that some things can’t be settled by committees,” James pondered. “We should try to do something about it.”

“Do you have a plan, Jemmy?”

“Not yet,” he admitted. “But I’ll think of one.”

* * *

Thomas adored Monticello, he was infinitely proud to have designed it and never grew tired of the praise he would receive whenever people came to his estate but he prided himself the most on his library. He possessed more than six thousand books and had read them all at least twice. Thomas was a man who liked to be learnt, who liked to know about as many things as possible, from science to literature to philosophy, he deemed every subject worth studying and he liked knowing things. 

Whenever he held a party, because a man of his rank and station had to do that several times a year, he would hide away in his library while the guess drank his finest bottles of wine. Thomas wasn’t a huge fan of public speaking in general and he’d trade anything to spend a night among his books instead of being the host of a party. Still, nobody could know that except for James, who was always the one covering up for him whenever he needed to get away because sometimes it would get just _too loud._

Oh, what he wouldn’t give to be back to his darling Polly and his sweet home, but instead, he had to deal with the little lion of Federalism and his atrocious debt plan. Did he really think that the plan would work? Thomas didn’t like how it gave too much power to the government and he didn’t want his state to pay off the debts of others states as well. Sure, they didn’t pay for labour but they paid for other things as well. What was Hamilton going to do next, tax the whiskey? 

“Did you see how Hamilton looked today?” John Adams asked him while they ate lunch together. “Absolutely terrible.”

“Is that so?” He hummed. 

“He looked like a walking corpse.”

“It is true that Alexander looked more tired than usual.” Burr conceded. 

Thomas was almost startled by the intervention of the man, since when had he been there with them? He narrowed his eyes as he looked at the bald man. He didn’t like Aaron Burr because the man couldn’t scream out loud what he stood for to save his life, there was no way to know what he was thinking and that was something Thomas didn’t like. He didn’t like how Burr’s expressions were almost impossible to decipher, he didn’t like how the man’s lips could always slightly curl up into a knowing smile. 

“In case you haven’t noticed, Hamilton’s always tired.” The Southerner simply replied. 

“Perhaps, but I’ve never seen him like that before,” Burr said. “And I’ve known him for quite a while.”

“Why is everyone so interested in Hamilton anyway?” Thomas groaned, exasperated. 

“Some hope that he’ll just drop dead,” John replied with a shrug of his shoulders. “It would spare us many headaches.”

Thomas knew that Hamilton wasn’t the most liked person in the Cabinet but people had to be fucking stupid just to openly wish that the man was dead, just because he was loud didn’t mean that he deserved to die. Yes, Thomas would prefer him silent and just away from politics, away in his house with his wife and kids but he surely didn’t prefer him dead. 

“It is not wise to wish for someone’s death, John.” The Virginian warned with narrowed eyes. 

His friend immediately blushed and quickly opened his mouth to protest. 

“It is not from me!” he exclaimed. “It’s just some rumours that I’ve heard, Thomas, nothing more.”

“They’re just rumours then.”

“We all know how it goes,” Burr mindlessly added as he stared at the window. “Rumors only grow.”

During the whole day, Thomas couldn’t stop thinking about Burr and John’s words. Sure, Hamilton had seemed more tired lately but it was just that, tiredness, right? Then he recalled how pale and skinny the immigrant was. Did the man ever eat? The Southerner tried to remember a time when he saw Hamilton in the lunchroom but he couldn’t since the man spent all of his time locked in his office. He was always the first one to arrive and the last one to go. 

Yet, he had his wife at home, she surely made sure that he was healthy enough to go to work, right? It wasn’t like she would let her husband go to work if it could endanger him. Thomas mentally snorted at the thought, as if anyone could stop Hamilton from doing want he wanted, the man was a force of nature, beautiful, destructive, deadly. 

Thomas was the bigger man here, he knew about rumours, he knew how destructive they could be and he knew how untrue most of them were, still, he couldn’t get Hamilton out of his head. What if Hamilton really was dying? The Virginian paused when he thought about it. What would he do if Hamilton died? He couldn’t die, Thomas wouldn’t have anyone else to debate with, if the immigrant died, he would take all the fun with him. 

It was something cruel to say but it was the truth. Sure, they were ‘sworn out enemies’ but that didn’t mean that Thomas wanted him dead, if anything, he wanted him to stay alive. Should he actually check on him? He could just pretend to have something for the immigrant to sign and check the damage or he could be upfront and just ask if something was wrong. 

Would Hamilton be even honest with him? The man hated his guts, the chances were that he would just open the door and have the immigrant throwing a book at his face to ask him to leave but if Hamilton needed help, he couldn’t just ignore him. He didn’t know why exactly, but he simply couldn’t. When it was around six, already one hour past the usual time he would stay, he made his way toward Hamilton’s office. 

The door was open as if to let a small breeze pass through it, summer was right around the corner and it was getting hotter every passing day. Thomas stopped at the doorframe and silently looked at his coworker who had discarded his jacket on a chair, leaving him just with his hideous green waistcoat. His desk was a mess but that was not something that surprised Thomas in the slightest.

“Hamilton?”

“What do you want, Jefferson?” The immigrant asked without even looking up from his parchment. 

“People think that you’re dying.”

“It just turns out I’m allergic to jerks,” he replied. “I have a feeling that if you leave, I’d feel immediately better.” 

Thomas rolled his eyes at the younger man’s antics. Did he always have to be like that? Did they always have to fight? Couldn’t they just have one normal conversation? Was it too much to ask? Thomas was trying to make some effort here and yet he was still as unwanted by Hamilton as predicted. It was no surprise really, but still. Surely Hamilton had to know that something was wrong if his self-proclaimed nemesis came to be sure that he was fine. 

“When was the last time you ate, Hamilton?”

“Four.” He mindlessly replied as he checked some notes in a book. 

“Four hours?”

It didn’t seem like a big deal. 

“Four days,” he hummed and groaned when his quill snapped. “Damn it.” 

Okay, maybe it was a big deal.

“What the hell, Hamilton?”

Still, the man wasn’t listening to him in the first place, he was too busy looking for another quill to replace his broken one. He opened a drawer and Thomas raised his eyebrows when he saw the horrific number of quills the man had. James once told him that Hamilton owned more than a thousand quills and he had never really believed it until today. 

“What?”

“Why don’t you eat?”

“I don’t have time.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“I’m working-”

“What could be so important for you to forget to eat?” He frowned, the corners of his lips twitching down.

“My debt plan.”

Thomas knew that Alexander Hamilton was a dedicated man, he was a man who fought teeth and claws for what he deemed right and he knew that he worked hard on his financial plan but this… this was madness. Hamilton really was dying, he was slowly killing himself through his work. Thomas liked to have his work done, like everyone else but he also knew about the dangers of overworking, it wasn’t healthy and what Hamiton was currently doing was insane. He opened his mouth to talk but was cut off by the immigrant.

“I need this plan, Jefferson.” Alexander sighed and it sounded so unlike him. 

His shoulders were slouched, the bags under his eyes were even bigger than the last time Thomas had seen him and he looked so… _done_ , almost ready to give up on everything. He didn’t have that fire in his eyes anymore, only dying embers suffocating in cold ashes and it was a view that almost haunted Thomas to the grave. 

_I have never seen someone so tired before._

“You really look terrible.”

“Yeah.”

What? No jabs? No insults? Thomas recoiled as he narrowed his eyes. He knew that the man was tired but he was never too tired to insult him. James had told him how Hamilton had been when they’d worked on the Federalist Papers. The man had been restless, sleepless nights after sleepless nights… but it didn’t even match how he was now, even James was surprised by the state the Immigrant was in. 

Thomas wondered if the man ever took a break, he didn’t even know if the word was part of the younger man’s vocabulary, to be fair since he had never seen him rest, always writing something. Even when he didn’t hold a pen Thomas already saw him writing something on the wood with his nail as if he was always working on something. How many quills did he break? Did Washington take away his quills when he wanted the kid to stop working?

“When was the last time you slept?”

Hamilton tilted his head. 

“Friday.”

“It's Thursday today."

"I know."

Thomas froze. 

“I’m sorry, what?”

“You asked me the last time I slept,” he repeated, slightly annoyed. “Last time I slept was Friday.”

“From last week?”

“Of course from last week,” he scoffed. “Can’t you do the maths? What? Do you need me to hold your hand while you count?” he frowned. “What do you want anyways, Jefferson? Can’t you leave me alone? I have so much work to do.”

Thomas could leave and be happy with the fact that he had tried but then a thought plagued his mind. In two months from now, where would Hamilton be? Would he still be sitting at his desk? Or would he be six feet under? The thought made him shiver and he merely sighed as a response.

“You should stop working for a while.”

“My work is my life.”

“You have a family, Hamilton,” Thomas reminded him. “You can’t kill yourself.”

“You can’t understand.”

“What do you mean?” He scoffed, frowning. 

“You didn’t have to work to get where you are now, Jefferson!” He snapped. 

Thomas opened his mouth to speak but the smaller man was faster than him. 

“You don’t know what it’s like, every day to prove to anyone that you are more than a poor bastard, that you’re more than a son of a whore!” he spat, venom lacing his tone. “You don’t know what it’s like to have to prove every day that you belong here,” his voice slightly cracked and made Thomas feel something. “You don’t know what it’s like to know that your time is limited.”

“Hamilton…” he slowly spoke. “Are you dying?”

“We’re all dying, Jefferson.” He replied. 

Was he just being dramatic or was he serious? Thomas couldn’t even tell, but the way Hamilton said those words made him shiver to the core. He didn’t exactly know why, but he didn’t like the idea of Hamilton dying because while he wanted him out of the political sphere he didn’t want him _dead._ Had John been right about Hamilton? Were the rumours true? 

“Yes,” he acknowledged. “But some people take more time than others.”

“Perhaps,” Alexander sighed. “Perhaps.”

“Why do you say that your time is limited?”

“As if you don’t know.” He huffed. 

When he was met with silence, Alexander gazed up to meet Jefferson’s eyes and he could see that the man was being completely honest and that he actually no idea what he was talking about. He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head.

“What I meant is that as soon as Washington leaves the White House, I know that I’ll be without a job.”

Thomas opened his mouth to retort but he paused. He knew that the immigrant was right, ge hadn’t really thought about it but he knew that no one would want Hamilton as Secretary Treasury, even though he was talented. Hamilton was too bright, too much to handle. Sure, he would still be the most important voice of his party but the load of work wouldn't be the same.

He would still be an amazing lawyer, though, but everyone knew that Hamilton wouldn’t be satisfied with only that. Everything suddenly made sense, why he would stay in his office until very late in the evening, why he was always working on so many different things at the same time… he wrote like he was running out of time because he truly was. 

“I have to leave my fingerprints on this world while I can,” Alexander whispered. “I know that you hate me and I know that you think I’m just a pebble on the road but I can assure Jefferson, I am not.” He gritted through his teeth. 

Couldn’t people see? Couldn’t people see what he was trying to do? He was trying to make this world a better place, he was trying to build strong foundations for his children to walk on. He knew that he wasn’t perfect, he knew that he was an asshole but he also knew that he was good at what he did. 

Why did he have to prove himself every day that he belonged in the court of wolves? Why couldn’t he be accepted because of his talents and skills? Who cared if he was an immigrant? Who cared if he was born out of wedlock? It didn’t diminish his intelligence in the slightest, so why did people care about those things?

“I am not what they say,” he clenched his fists, hard. “My mom wasn’t…” he whispered, his eyes filling with tears. “She wasn’t a whore.”

Hamilton almost reminded Thomas of a child, he reminded him of Randolph when he was too tired to fight everyone around him and preferred to cry instead. The immigrant turned around so that Thomas wouldn’t see his tears but the damage had already been done. The Southerner had never thought that Hamilton could cry. He could cry out of anger because he just wanted to rip Thomas’ head off, yes, but to cry like that? It made him feel uncomfortable and he didn’t know what to think anymore.

“Hamilton, who cares about what people say?”

“That’s rich, coming from you.” Alexander snorted.

“Excuse me?”

“Everything you do, Jefferson, is rehearsed, every gesture is mechanical, practised until it reaches perfection.”

Thomas froze and his heart dropped to his stomach. Surely, he had heard wrong, there was no way for Hamilton to actually know about that, he had been careful all of his life, pretending that he was in control when, truly, he wasn’t. The only other person aware of his anxiety was James. He merely arched an eyebrow, keeping on a calm expression despite having his blood rushing to his ears. 

He couldn’t let Hamilton know about that, the immigrant always tried to rile him up, looking everywhere for his misdeeds, looking for anything that he could use against him on the Congress floor. He knew that Hamilton would have no qualm about ruining his political life if it meant that he could get what he wanted because he would do just the same. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Hamilton.” He cooly replied. 

“Do you believe in your lie?”

“There’s no lie.”

He could see that Hamilton was going to say something but the man just sighed and looked away instead. It was odd since Hamilton was not known for being the one stepping down from an argument, especially when it came to tormenting Thomas. 

“Hamilton, you really need to take a break.”

“Why do you care?” Alexander asked and he sounded so exhausted. “You never gave two shits about me before, why now?”

_Because you look like you need someone to care for you._

“You’re useless to me when you’re like this,” Thomas replied instead. “You’re pathetic and I don’t attack a man who’s already on the ground.”

“I’m not on the ground!” He gasped, clearly offended. 

“You’re so short, it’s all the same,” Thomas smirked. 

“I am not short!” he seethed and the Virginian was pleased to have him answer. “I am average, you’re the one who’s the fucking giant!”

“I heard that small people are always angry,” he hummed. “It explains so many things about you.”

“I will break your kneecaps.”

“Can you even reach them?” He arched an eyebrow. 

There was a pregnant pause and before Thomas could say anything else, Alexander burst out of laughing. It startled the Virginian who had not been expecting such a reaction from the younger man but the immigrant threw his head back, and his mouth was wide, showing all his teeth, it made him look even younger. 

Thomas didn’t know that the man could smile like that, especially because of him. He frowned at the strange feeling he felt in his chest, quickly chasing it away while the immigrant tried to regain his breath. He knew that Hamilton's brain must have had a problem since he actually laughed at an insult, genuinely laughed, instead of retaliating with something. 

The man needed to take a break, Thomas could not let Hamilton die because of his work, it would be a damn shame to see such a brilliant flame flicker out so soon. Who would he bother if Hamilton was gone? Who would fight him? Even the people who disapproved of his opinions always gave in because no one could resist him, no one except Hamilton. Even though he didn’t like admitting it, Thomas needed Hamilton.

“Hamilton,” he tried to catch his attention but the man wasn’t listening. “Hamilton!”

The man’s laughter faded and he gazed up to meet the Southerner’s eyes. 

“What?”

“You need to take a fucking break.”

“You need to get the fuck out of my office.” He immediately responded and Thomas rolled his eyes. 

How could he make him rest? Thomas felt like a parent who had to put their kid to bed and even Patsey was more reasonable than the immigrant. He hadn’t felt that way for a very long time and he couldn’t shake the feeling of helplessness that slowly invaded him. If he left the room without doing anything about Hamilton’s condition, he felt like he was condemning the immigrant. Thomas was witnessing him slowly killing himself with his work and he had to do something. 

Still, it wasn’t like Hamilton would listen to him and he wondered if Hamilton would go to sleep out of spite if Thomas asking him to stay awake since the Virginian knew that the younger man could never refuse a challenge. He mentally shook his head, doubting that it would actually work, Hamilton’s plan was literally everything to him at the moment, he wouldn’t let a stupid challenge stray him from it. A sudden idea came to his mind, the plan, that was it, Thomas needed to use the plan to his advantage. 

“You know what Hamilton? I’ll make you a deal.”

“A deal?” Alexander tilted his head, staring intently at him.

“You come with me to Monticello for the summer,” he said. “You get an actual fucking vacation-”

“Absolutely not-”

“-and we’ll discuss your debt plan.”

“-absolutely yes.”

“But-” he warned and raised his finger. “You have to rest first. We can work on your plan and we will, only if you fucking rest first. I don’t want you to drop dead on the Congress floor, I’ll get bored if you’re not around.”

“Is that your way of saying that you need me, Jefferson?” Alexander couldn’t help but taunt.

“Oh Alexander,” Thomas darkly chuckled. “We both know that you’re the one who needs me right now.”

Alexander wanted to spat at his face that it wasn’t true, that he could handle himself just fine but he was right, the only person who could help him at the moment was Jefferson. Madison refused to let him have the votes he needed for his plan and Alexander knew that Jefferson was the only one who could talk some sense into Madison and sway the votes in his favour. 

He thought about it. Could he really handle a whole summer in the same house as Jefferson? He’d heard that Monticello was huge, maybe it was big enough for him not to see the Virginian’s face more than necessary. He really didn’t want to go to the South but at the same time, he needed his plan. Washington had asked him to figure something out or he would lose his job, literally and Alexander couldn’t afford that. He had to provide for his family, for his darling Eliza and his children. 

Eliza… what would she think of this? Would she be mad at him because he wouldn’t join her upstate with Angelica and the children as he had planned to do after having taken care of his plan? Would she blame him for putting work first? Would she understand that everything he did, he did it for his family? 

He couldn’t lose his job and right now Jefferson was the only chance that he had to keep it. Should he ask for her permission first? He mentally scoffed, he couldn’t wait to send her a letter, he had to take his shot while the opportunity was there. Who knew? Maybe Jefferson would retreat the offer any moment now, seeing that Alexander didn’t really ‘seem’ interested in it and he couldn’t risk that. Sure, it would mean that he wouldn’t see his wife and his children for a while but it was a small price to pay for what would come next.

Once his plan passed the Congress floor Alexander could relax and spend more time with his family, he wouldn’t have to stay awake until small hours in order to modify his draft, he wouldn’t have to fear disappointing Washington and losing his job, he would finally be able to rest a little bit and spend time with his darling little monsters and his wife.

Contrary to what you could think, Alexander Hamilton did spend a lot of time with his children, he loved them dearly, more than life itself and spent every minute he could with them. He liked to read stories to Angie at night, he loved to tuck baby Alex in and he took great pride in passing down his knowledge to his eldest son, Pip. He was disappointed by the idea of not spending time with his children during the summer but at the same time, it was a small price to pay to get what he wanted. 

Jefferson wanted him to rest? He could do that if it meant he could have his banks, hell, he’d probably do whatever it takes to have his banks anyway. He sighed before gazing up to meet the Virginian’s eyes and the man stayed quiet while Alexander thought about his proposition, keening observing him with his dark eyes.

It felt weird for the immigrant to see Jefferson looking at him that way, _normally,_ there wasn’t any fire in his eyes, any hate or anything he could find whenever they were arguing, Jefferson was looking at him as if he were a real person and it made him feel uncomfortable. 

“Fair enough,” he finally said. “I will go to Monticello with you.”

“Perfect, we shall depart in two days.”

“Two days!?” He exclaimed, surprised. 

“What?” Thomas arched an eyebrow. “Do you want to wait longer for your plan?”

That shut him up. With a satisfied smirk, Thomas heavily leaned on his cane and tilted his head as he watched the immigrant in front of him. The Southerner could tell that Hamilton wanted to say something, something smart that would hurt but he prevented himself from doing so because he didn’t want to anger more than necessary his only way out. 

“It leaves you enough time to bid your farewell to your family,” he continued. “It won’t be like you’re leaving for eternity.”

“It’ll certainly feel like it.” Alexander huffed with his arms crossed against his chest. 

The gesture made him look oddly endearing. Mortified, Thomas quickly chased the thought away and cleared his throat. 

“What about Madison?” Alexander asked. “Will he be joining us?”

“James already has plans for this summer.” Thomas replied.

“Then how are we going to-”

“One thing at a time, Alexander.” The Southerner shushed him with a patronizing smile. “Don’t you know? Good things come to those who wait.”

* * *

_My dearest Alexander,_

_Your last letter surprised me so much I had to re-read it twice to make sure I understood it clearly. Who knew that Mister Jefferson could actually get you to go to bed, more so than you own wife? I am not mad, my dear husband, if anything, I am relieved. I am happy to know that you will be able to rest and to take care of yourself while working with Mister Jefferson._

_While I am saddened by the fact that you will not be joining us upstate, I am glad to hear that you managed to find a compromise with Mister Jefferson. When Philip heard the news, he did not understand why you would willingly go to Monticello and he asked me if you intended to kill Mister Jefferson in his sleep. While I chided him for such a thought, I must remind you to be polite with your host, my love. I know how you can get when you work with Mister Jefferson and I do not want you to overwork yourself and to worsen the situation between the two of you just because of your temper._

_I know that you will not have time to join us for this summer but I take comfort in the fact that you will have more time once your plan is passed, just like you said so many weeks ago. Angie can’t wait to show you the new dance she learned and she also wanted me to tell you about the new doll she got from her aunt Peggy. She likes it very so and she became her best friend. I fear that our child is getting spoiled, I must ask my sister to stop buying her presents whenever we come to visit._

_Please, take care of you this summer._

_With all my love,_

_Eliza._

* * *

Alexander cast a look at the carriage where he caught a glimpse of Jefferson before looking back at his house and sighing. It was going to be a long summer and he already wanted to be done with it. The valet took his suitcase before opening the door so he could join his co-worker inside.

The Virginian was impeccably dressed and Alexander wondered if he was not going to die of heat. He knew that Jefferson was used to the Southern climate, which was much warmer than in the North but still. It was getting hotter and hotter but it wasn’t a lot compared to what Alexander had to face in Nevis, so it didn’t really change anything for him. The good thing was that there wasn’t any hurricane here. 

“Jefferson, I’m surprised you’re not late.”

“Hamilton,” Thomas greeted. “I’m surprised you actually came.”

“We made a deal.”

“And I am a man of my world.” He drawled, placing his hand on his chest.

Was he already regretting it? Alexander frowned when he saw his house become smaller and smaller as they moved away and he wondered if it would still be the same when he would come back. He couldn’t wait to go back home and he knew that he was going to be counting the days until he would be back in Eliza’s arms.

Work was work and he intended to be quick and efficient. He didn’t want to spend more time than necessary with Jefferson and he wanted his debt plan to get Congressional approval by the end of summer. He sighed as he looked at the sky. A summer in Moncetillo, what was the worst that could happen anyway? 

* * *

  
  


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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come talk to me on my tumblr, i swear i'm nice.  
> tell me what you thought of it!


	5. SWEAR THAT YOU WILL BEHAVE FOR ONCE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the road to Monticello is long and Alexander meets an another Jefferson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I said that I would update every week? HA. Well, I think that if I want to keep a real schedule, I'll have to update every two weeks, or else, you'll be just disappointed.  
> Warnings: Thomas' accent, mentions of sex, mention of death.  
> Words: 4327

**chapter 2**

_swear that you will behave for once_

  
  


When Jefferson told him that they would reach Monticello in a day, Alexander was more than delighted to have brought his lap desk to get some work done. He refused to stay idle for such a long period of time and he had many things to write anyway. As soon as he took his quill out, Jefferson tsked and the immigrant gazed up to meet his eyes. 

“We said that you were to take a break, Hamilton.” He reminded him.

“Yes, once we are in Monticello. Yet, we are not in Monticello, are we, Jefferson?”

“Don’t play smart with me.”

“Why?” he arched an eyebrow. “Scared that you might lose?”

“I will not indulge in your childish games. Suit yourself if you wish to write but I will personally talk to my valet and ask him to drive the carriage through the bumpiest roads so that all of your ink spills over you.”

Alexander slowly closed his lap desk and frowned. 

“You are an evil man.”

“And you are not supposed to be working right now.”

What else was he supposed to do? He wasn’t kidding when he said that his work was his life. He had been working on his plan for so long that it was the only thing he could think about. Granted, his mind was more at ease to know that his chances of reaching a compromise with the Democratic-Republicans were much higher now than last week. Still, Alexander Hamilton was not someone who just ‘enjoyed the ride’ in a carriage.

Whenever he was in a carriage, Alexander would work, whether it be on his business plan or on a speech for Washington. He wrote all the time, hell, he even wrote on his horse during the war, he could handle it. Eliza never complained before and Alexander didn’t understand why Jefferson did. He couldn’t just look at the window to kill time or worse, actually talk to Jefferson, his moral wouldn’t allow it.

The Virginian was staring at him with his head slightly tilted on the side as if he was studying him. Alexander narrowed his eyes and refused to be the first one to talk so he decided to study his coworker as well. It always felt weird for the immigrant to see Jefferson without his coat yet it wasn’t surprising given the current weather. Alexander wondered what the hell they were actually going to do during a whole summer together. It could be the perfect opportunity to poison Jefferson in his sleep, just like his eldest child said. 

“Why are you doing this?”

“What?”

“Helping me.”

Jefferson pondered for a few seconds and Alexander would have given everything to know what was happening in his brain. The Virginian had a way of holding himself, a way of presenting himself in such a manner that it was almost impossible to know what he was thinking about.

It was similar to Burr, except that Jefferson had beliefs. Alexander knew that the Southerner was a wondrous actor because he recognized the patterns of someone with social anxiety and Jefferson managed to behave as if he was the best orator that ever was. Yet Alexander still perfectly recalled Jefferson’s reaction when he called him on his bluff. 

_“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Hamilton.”_

_“Do you believe in your lie?”_

_“There’s no lie.”_

He somehow admired Jefferson for being able to act like an entitled asshole when deep down, he was scared. At least they shared something in common. Alexander remembered how James helped him with his anxiety when they were still friends. He wondered if James did the same with Jefferson. 

“I told you, you’re useless to me when you’re like this,” the older man replied. “You are becoming the shell of a man because you are overworking yourself.”

“That is untrue.” He frowned. 

“Alexander, you hadn’t slept in a week,” Thomas drawled with a condescending tone. “You were so weak I’m pretty sure you would have dropped dead if I hadn’t stopped you.”

“I don’t need as much sleep as you to function, Jefferson.” He retorted, crossing his arms on his chest. 

Jefferson stared at him for a few seconds. 

“I am amazed by the fact that you firmly believe that.”

“Because it’s true!”

“I have a question for you, Hamilton,” he smirked. “What do you do when you’re not working?”

“I sleep.”

Jefferson waited for a few seconds but when he realized that Alexander wasn’t joking, the corner of his lips turned down and a frown kissed his face. 

“You can’t be working all the time.”

“No, you’re right,” Alexander said. “There are times when I busy myself with the duties of a loving husband and father.”

“It’s nice to know that you make time for your family instead of working.” Thomas replied with an arched eyebrow. 

“You’re just saying that because you’re jealous you don’t have one.”

Alexander frowned when Jefferson observed him with an amused expression on his face 

“You know what? I refuse to speak about politics with you until we take care of your plan.”

“What the hell are we supposed to talk about, then!?”

“You’re a smart man, Alexander. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” 

They bickered about philosophy, food and France for the rest of the day. Thomas was amazed by the fact Hamilton had an opinion on literally everything. He mentally chuckled when he remembered that the immigrant was friends with Aaron Burr, who basically was his opposite. It felt nice for Thomas to see Hamilton rant, even though he was _wrong_ , especially after how he had found the immigrant in his office, completely drained. He shivered when he thought of Hamilton with tears in his eyes, he didn’t want to see that face ever again.

Thomas was able to take a break from arguing only when Hamilton fell asleep. Thomas was reading and when he gazed up, Hamilton's head was resting on his fist and his breathing deepened. It felt nice not to hear anything for a while and Thomas couldn’t help but stare at the immigrant while he had his eyes closed. He looked much younger and it was weird to see him like this, almost… vulnerable. Despite the bad blood between them, Thomas was happy to see the other man rest. 

He remembered how James once told him that Hamilton could actually kill himself with his work and he never thought that it was true. What would have happened if he had left for Monticello without Hamilton? He slightly shivered and shook his head. There was no reason to dwell on such things. He remained silent until the carriage stopped when they reached the inn.

He couldn’t wait to rest on a real bed and even if it wasn’t his own, it was better than the bench seat. He looked at the smaller man and sighed. He didn’t want to wake him up since he knew how much the immigrant needed it, but at the same time, he had to make him eat and sleep in a real bed. 

“Alexander,” he gently shook him awake. “We’re here.”

“Monticello?” He mumbled with a sleepy voice. 

Thomas had never seen him look so endearing before and this mere thought almost made him shudder. The immigrant rubbed his eyes and yawned, looking way too adorable for a grown man such as himself, before blinking as he tried to chase away his sleepiness. 

“No, we are at the inn,” Thomas replied. “Come on, Sam already booked us our rooms and we need to eat.”

“Okay.”

Hamilton remained oddly silent throughout dinner, which Thomas would have normally considered as a blessing if it weren’t for the weird looks the immigrant gave him. He didn’t press it because he wanted to go to sleep early tonight and he knew how Hamilton could get during an argument. He didn’t want to have to listen to the immigrant ranting for hours. He ordered another bottle of wine and relaxed in his chair, silently finishing his dinner.

At some point, he was approached by a woman and it only took him a few seconds to realize that she was a prostitute, trying her best to charm him. She looked pretty alright but the fact that she was attempting to seduce him in front of his political enemy made him feel incredibly uncomfortable. He stuttered a few answers, trying to make her leave but it seemed that she had taken a great interest in him and ignored the hints. Hamilton looked at him rather amused with his arms crossed on his chest and a grin on his face.

“You know, it’s getting late.”

“Hamilton.” He warned. 

“I’m really tired,” the man said and faked a yawn. “I think I’ll go to my room.”

He nodded toward the young woman. 

“Miss.”

He then smirked at Thomas. 

“Jefferson.”

Then, he left. The little shit actually just left him alone with a prostitute he didn’t even want. He sighed, contemplating the idea of bringing her to bed or not but then he shook his head. No, he wasn’t in the mood and while she looked pretty, he knew that he wouldn’t be satisfied with her. He merely built up the courage to politely ask her to leave and frowned when he realized that Hamilton didn’t pay for his food. He sighed and finished his drinks before paying and going to his room.

Obviously, Alexander lied, he wasn’t tired. With all that he’d slept in the carriage, he could last at least three long days. He couldn’t help but chuckle when he thought about Jefferson having to deal with that prostitute. He wondered if the man was as prude as he seemed to be. He lit a candle and started writing to his sister-in-law. He remembered her last letter in which she’d told him to sit down with Jefferson and compromise with him and he needed to tell her about the slight change of plans.

_My dearest, Angelica_

_I think that you will be pleased to know that I managed to compromise with Jefferson. Well, ‘managed’ is quite a strong word but I can assure you that I am on the right path. I am sure that Eliza already told you about my situation and while it is quite peculiar, I intend to take every opportunity that will arise so that my plan gets congressional approval. I know that I cannot persuade James Madison to save my life but I have a little bit more hope when it comes to Thomas Jefferson. You know how I am, dear, I will not stop until I get what I want._

_I knew that I would have to give a little bit of myself when it came to my debt plan but Angelica, it’s not a little bit of myself that I am giving. A whole summer in Monticello! I think I have given my whole soul and please, do notice how I wrote ‘given’ and not sold, meaning that I have been stripped of my last will to live for free._

_These months are going to be interminable and I simply wish I was upstate as well. I know it is selfish of me to bemoan about such things when in the end, it is supposed to go in my favour, but still, it’s Thomas Jefferson we’re talking about. The man is insufferable, wrong in every aspect of his politics and he is as fitted as being Secretary of State as I am at gardening. I am, however, optimistic for the future._

_Please, kiss my darling wife and children for me._

_Yours,_

_Alexander._

* * *

“You had a good night, Jefferson?” Alexander asked him with a sly smile. 

How could a man be so vile, Thomas didn’t know. He merely ignored the remark and kept reading the ancient book he had acquired not so long ago, something about old myths and legends. The immigrant didn’t speak a word to him until they left the inn and were seated in the carriage. Why was he so surprised by such an immature reaction coming from the younger man? He should know better than to expect Hamilton to behave like a sensible adult.

“What? You’re not even going to share?”

“Don’t you have something better to do than to annoy me, Hamilton?”

“We’re in a carriage, I have nothing else to do.”

“Why don’t you go talk to Samuel about your debt plan?” he asked. “So I don’t have to look at your face for too long.”

“Charming,” he snorted, crossing his arms on his chest. “You sound like a promising host.”

Thomas gazed up and stared at him for a few seconds.

“I do not owe you anything, Hamilton,” he reminded him. “I am an impeccable host but I am not the one who has to make you behave.”

“As if you could.” He murmured under his breath.

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

* * *

Even though Alexander hated to admit it, Monticello was a beautiful place. It bled charm and wealth, he was not surprised that Jefferson had been the one to design it. It was a three-storied house with too many bedrooms to count and infinite acres of lands. Alexander remembered the day he was invited to Mount Vernon by Martha Washington, who wished to know more about her husband’s aide-de-camp. Their estate was much bigger than Monticello but it wasn’t as charming as Jefferson’s house. Alexander scrunched his nose in disgust when he saw the many slaves around, clearly sensing that he wouldn’t feel comfortable here anytime soon. 

“How many rooms do you have here?” Alexander frowned as he gazed up. 

“Forty-four, why?”

“Why the fuck do you need forty-four rooms?”

“So I can welcome many people, Hamilton.” Thomas chided. 

They walked to the front door and were greeted by an old black woman, who bowed her head when she saw them arrive. 

“Everything’s been prepared, Master.”

“Perfect, Betty.” He nodded. 

“Polly is in Charlottesville at the moment,” she informed the Virginian. “She’ll be back at the end of the afternoon.”

“Aight.”

With a wave of his hand, Jefferson dismissed her and led Alexander to the parlour.

“What in hell’s name is that?” He asked, looking at the chair. 

“What do you mean?” Thomas tilted his head. “It’s a chair Hamilton, so you can sit.” 

“It’s hideous!” he scrunched his nose in disgust. “It’s the exact same colour as your ugly coat. Oh my god, look at the curtain, it’s the same ugly colour.”

Thomas merely rolled his eyes and sighed. Of course, Hamilton would criticize his house and be a little shit about it. He already regretted having invited the immigrant to his estate in the first place. He had only been here for just a few minutes and Thomas already wanted to put him in a carriage and make him leave. 

“Why did I invite you here already?”

“To pass my debt plan.”

“No,” he tsked. “I invited you so you could rest and not insult my home.”

“You-”

“I said that we were going to work on your plan, I never said that it would pass.”

“I just assumed-”

“Didn’t you learn that one must never assume in politics?” Thomas cocked a perfect eyebrow. 

Alexander clenched his fists so he wouldn’t punch the Democratic-Republican in the throat. Was it too late to actually go back to his house? He didn’t care if he had to walk, the heat couldn’t be worse than what they had endured during the Battle of Monmouth and it wasn’t anything big compared to the summers in Nevis. He opened his mouth to retort but then closed it.

Truth to be fair, he was tired and he didn’t feel like arguing with Jefferson. He had to be nice to the Southern fuck if he wanted to go somewhere with his plan. It was alright, he could take a few hits, his pride could take a few blows, as long as he got what he wanted. He could almost hear Eliza’s voice chiding him to behave.

“Are you gonna give me the grand tour?” Alexander arched an eyebrow. “If I recall correctly, you said that you were an ‘impeccable host’.”

Jefferson merely narrowed his eyes before leading him through the house. Alexander noticed that the Virginian liked to collect things and that he had pretty paintings hung on the walls. He had some bust from people he recognized and while he deemed it a little creepy he could understand that it was a way to pay his respect. 

What interested him the most was the library that he had heard so much about but it didn’t seem like Jefferson intended to take him there. He would have thrown a fit if he wasn’t supposed to spend the summer here. He had time to explore the house on his own and maybe steal and few things.

Overall, the estate was beautiful, there was no way to deny it. Alexander was still disgusted by the numbers of slaves he saw around but then he was not surprised. Monticello was a huge plantation and Jefferson’s wealth had to come from somewhere. What would John think if he saw Alexander there? Would be disappointed? Ashamed?

“Betty,” Thomas called “Show Mr Hamilton his room.”

“Yes, Master,” the woman nodded and Alexander cringed. “Please follow me, sir.”

The room was upstairs and more than adequate, he even had a desk, which he was grateful for. He was informed that Jefferson wished to rest for the rest of the day and that they would see each other for supper. He was alright with that. He’d already spent too much time with the magenta prick and he was still working on how he would survive a whole summer here.

What confused him the most was that Jefferson wanted him to rest, but what was he supposed to do then? How could he rest when he was far away from home and from his family? Was he supposed to play house with Jefferson? He almost threw up at the thought. To distract himself from these dire thoughts Alexander wrote. He wrote about everything he had inside his head, wondering if the hurricane in his thoughts would ever disappear.

Ever since the hurricane, ever since he started writing… he’d never stopped. There was always something to say, something to fight for, Alexander was not someone who could stay idle and just go with the flow, he had to leave fingerprints on the world. He was given the chance to shape a nation, to lay strong foundations for his children to walk on, he couldn’t pass that. Alexander lost track of time until someone knocked on his door to tell him that he was expected in the dining room. He made a noise of disgust when he entered the room and Jefferson sighed.

“What is it?”

“I just had to look at your yellow walls and now I’m fucking blind.”

“Too bad you’re not fucking mute,” Thomas retorted. “It would have been best for all of us.”

“How dare you?”

“You’re the one who starts it, Alexander.”

“That’s not even true.”

“You came here and insulted my wall.”

“How can you expect me not to insult it when it looks so terrible?” He retorted, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“I’m really trying, Hamilton,” Thomas gritted through his teeth. “If you’re not happy you could just take a carriage and leave.”

“I just arrived!”

“Then be an honourable guest and stop pissing me off!”

Alexander opened his mouth and then closed it. Why was it so hard for him to behave with Jefferson? It felt so weird to be in his home for something else than for work. Of course, they still have to talk about his debt plan but Jefferson brought him here first so he could rest. How could he rest if he was in the same house as the Southern fuck? He blessed his lucky stars because the house was so huge, he wouldn’t even have to see him if he didn’t want to. 

“Where is your bedroom?” Alexander asked.

“Downstairs, why?”

“The farther away from you, the better.”

“I can put you in the south pavilion if you prefer,” Thomas arched an eyebrow. “It’s far away from everything.”

“No, thank you very much.”

“Papa!” 

Alexander turned his head to see a little girl, no younger than twelve running toward them. Jefferson quickly got up and before he knew it, she jumped into his arms. The tall man caught her with ease and spun her around, making her laugh. 

“I missed you!” She smiled and Thomas chuckled. 

“I miss you too, darlin’,” he replied. “Now, what did we say about running in the house?”

“I’m sorry,” she sheepishly smiled. “Sally told me that you were back and I couldn’t wait.”

“You are forgiven this time.” He nodded before gazing up to meet the immigrant’s eyes. 

The look on Hamilton’s face almost made him laugh. He looked so confused and lost as if he was trying to find the answer to a question that did not exist. The man blinked several times before putting a pleasant smile on his face, something Thomas was not used to seeing. He then remembered that Alexander had many children and that he knew how to deal with them.

“Polly, this is Alexander Hamilton.”

“Oh, you are Papa’s co-worker!” she exclaimed. “I have heard about you.”

“Bad things, I assume.” The immigrant said.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I remember they told me that you were small.”

Hamilton cast a deadpan look at Thomas who merely hid his laugh behind a fake cough. 

“Well, they were wrong.”

“You are smaller than Papa, though.” She noticed. 

“Simply because your father is really tall.”

“He is,” she hummed. “I’m glad he’s back!”

She turned her head to look at him. 

“Does that mean that I’ll get a story tonight?”

“Maybe not tonight, Polly,” he said. “It was a long trip from New York and I’m tired.”

“Pretty please?”

“The fact that it’s a pretty please won’t change the fact that I’m tired,” he arched an eyebrow, clearly used to dealing with her antics. “Tomorrow.”

“Fine.” She pouted. 

Alexander couldn’t help but notice how she resembled her father with the way the corners of her lips twitched down when she was displeased. They all ate together and the younger man got to know the child better. She was lively, sweet and bubbly like expensive champagne. It was impossible for someone to feel unhappy in her presence. While she was still young, Alexander quickly noticed that she was well-spoken and was well-versed on certain subjects, but when he thought about who her father was, he was not surprised. 

He wondered if she would get along with his Pip. Polly told them how she spent the afternoon downtown trying some gowns on for her upcoming birthday and how she bought a few books as well. Alexander couldn’t help but smile when she told them about her newest additions to the library.

It was always nice to see children interested in literature and from what he saw, Polly Jefferson was someone who wanted to be learnt and known for her mind instead of her beauty. When he told her that he enjoyed reading as well, she immediately asked him for books recommendation and Alexander knew that he couldn’t hate the child even if he wanted to.

When it became late, the little girl had to go to sleep. She kissed her father’s cheek and bowed her head to Alexander before leaving. Soon, it was just the two of them, drinking a fine bottle of wine and making small talks about everything but politics. It was still odd for the immigrant to have a conversation with Jefferson without engaging into a political discourse but at the same time, it felt… different. He didn’t know how it felt yet, but it wasn’t as unpleasant as he would have thought. 

“She’s a sweet child.” Alexander complimented. 

“She really is.”

“She would probably get along with my kids too, even though she’s a little bit older.”

“She’s a social butterfly, that one.” He gently smiled. 

Alexander couldn’t help but stare. There it was again, that same smile, the kind of smile that made him appear younger and almost… The smaller man shook his head, chasing away those thoughts. What was he thinking? Even with a pretty smile, it was still Thomas Jefferson. 

“Where’s your wife?”

“She passed away.”

Was it the reason why Jefferson looked so broken when he thought that nobody was looking? Alexander was someone who actually paid attention to the world around him, despite what people thought, and he had seen it. He had seen the look in the Virginian’s eyes and for a moment, he understood the man. After all, Jefferson wasn’t the only one to have lost a Southerner he deemed close. 

“I’m sorry.” He said. 

It was the truth. 

“So am I.”

There was a pregnant pause. 

“Do you have other children?”

“Just Martha, my eldest, who left Monticello at the beginning of the year with her husband.”

“I didn’t know you had children.” Alexander admitted.

“I’m not surprised,” Thomas honestly answered. “You’re not interested in my life.”

“Well, you’re not interested in mine.” He retorted, crossing his arms on his chest.

“Do you have to take everything as a personal insult?” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“It’s not my fault it felt like an insult.”

“Well, it wasn’t, Alexander.”

“Why do you call me like that?”

“I believe it is your name.” Thomas slowly spoke as if the immigrant were stupid.

“You never call me Alexander at work.” 

“Maybe you didn’t notice it, but we’re not at work, Alexander. We’re in my home,” Thomas said, using his name just to spite the smaller man. “I think we can drop the formalities.” 

“Whatever you say, Jefferson.”

Thomas merely sighed and shook his head. 

_Maybe, if we really try, we could make this work._

  
  


* * *

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tell me what you thought of it, your comments give me life.
> 
> The part where Alexander says to Angelica: 'he is as fitted as being Secretary of State as I am at gardening' is inspired by a letter from Alexander Hamilton to Richard Peters, 29 December 1802.


	6. MY EYES CAN FINALLY SEE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander realizes a few things about Thomas and some stories are told.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hate this but hey, at least, I updated.  
> Warnings: Sexual tension, mentions of sex, Thomas' accent.  
> Words: 4039

**chapter 3**

_my eyes can see_

  
  


Thomas Jefferson wasn’t kidding when he said that they wouldn’t talk about work before Alexander actually rested. The immigrant fumed in his room, thinking about how precious time was and how he couldn’t just accept losing it just because he had to rest. Who cared if he rested anyway? It wasn’t like Eliza was here to scold him. He scoffed, Eliza wasn’t here, but Jefferson sure was. 

He tried to revise his debt plan as much as he could but without the Virginian’s opinion on it, he couldn’t do much. Whenever he tried to talk about it, Jefferson would either ignore him or immediately change the subject. He lasted a few days until his mind screamed at him to keep himself busy. Since he didn’t want to see Jefferson except if it was to talk about his plan, he decided to explore the estate. 

Despite the fact that some part looked ugly because, dear god, having magenta furniture clearly was a crime against humanity, Alexander was determined to find some good books to read. He wandered around for a while and huffed in frustration when he didn’t find anything. That was why he hated huge houses, they were nice when one had a big family, just like he and Eliza had planned to have, but Jefferson was alone apart from his daughter. The immigrant stopped walking for a few seconds, in deep thoughts. Did Jefferson ever plan to have more children? It could explain the many rooms. 

He looked around, wondering what he would do if he were to lose his Eliza. He would be heartbroken, without a doubt, but he wouldn’t be surprised. Ever since he was a child, everyone he had ever loved had died, would it be any different now that he was an adult? Alexander snapped out of his thoughts when a slave walked in front of him. Maybe if he asked her for directions, he wouldn’t have to walk around for hours and probably get lost.

“Excuse me, Miss,” he called the woman. “I’m looking for the library, could you please tell me where it is?”

She looked at him for a few seconds before nodding and motioning him to follow her. They walked together in the corridors in silence and whenever he tried to talk to her, she would merely twitch her hands and look away. Was she scared of him? He didn’t know how Jefferson treated his slaves but Alexander felt saddened that she wouldn’t even talk to him. 

“What’s your name?”

She looked down. 

“Can you speak?”

She shook her head. 

_Oh._

“You’re mute.” Alexander realized. 

She nodded. 

“Can you sign?”

Another nod. 

“ _Perfect then, we can still talk._ ”

Her eyes grew wide when she saw him move his hands. 

“ _You can sign?_ ” She asked.

“Yes I can, I had a friend of mine who was deaf, so I had to learn _,”_ he explained. “Does anybody here sign too?”

“ _No, you’re the only one. Betty can do a few things and Sally got curious so I taught her some words._ ”

“What about Jefferson?”

“ _I don’t think the master can sign._ ”

“How do you communicate with the others?”

“ _I use Betty or I just don’t communicate._ ”

“That’s ridiculous _,_ ” he scoffed. _“_ You shouldn’t be put aside just because you can’t talk.”

“ _I never get whipped because I can’t talk._ ”

_You shouldn’t even be getting whipped in the first place._

“What’s your name?” He asked.

“ _Thulani._ ”

“I’ve never heard anything like it.”

“ _I ain’t surprised._ ”

“What does it mean?”

“ _It mean quiet one._ ”

“Rather fitting, don’t you think?”

“ _Yes, sir. When I was a baby, my mom said I didn’t cry, I was quiet.”_

“Don’t you ever feel lonely here?”

“ _I don’t have time for that._ ”

She showed him a door. 

“ _The library’s here. Be careful, it’s next to Master’s study and he don’t like to be bothered when he work_.”

“Alright,” he nodded. “Thank you, Thulani.”

She merely bowed her head before leaving. Alexander took a deep breath and turned around. Jefferson’s library seemed smaller than he had imagined, but then he guessed that the man probably had books all around his house and that they were not all in there. He rummaged through the bookshelves, noticing several books about Bacon, Newton and Locke. Oddly, he was not in a mood to read something philosophical or related to politics, but rather a good novel. He arched an eyebrow when he reached a section with only French books. He inspected the covers, looking through some pages until one caught his attention. 

“ _Les Liasons dangereuses_ ,” he read and then chuckled. “Typical French.”

He opened the book and a note fell on the ground. Curious, he picked it up and made sure that no one was around before he read it. 

_Mon cher Thomas,_

_Adrienne a acheté ce livre pour se distaire il y a des années de cela, et je crois bien, mon ami, que j’en suis tombé sous le charme. L’intrigue est si croustillante et nouvelle, je ne peux que vous le conseiller. Cela ne vous apportera rien en terme politique, mais je pense qu’une bonne distraction de temps en temps est toujours la bienvenue._

_Adieu, mon très cher ami, puisse-t-on nous revoir très prochainement._

_Gilbert._

A book recommendation from Lafayette? Alexander arched an eyebrow at the tone of the note. He knew that Lafayette had helped Jefferson around when the Virginian was in France but he had no idea that they were close friends, close enough to give each other book recommendations. The immigrant frowned before looking at the book once again. He knew that the Frenchman had a good taste when it came to literature and he probably wouldn’t be disappointed by what his friend read. 

Yet… if Jefferson liked the book, there was no way for him to like it as well. He contemplated for a few seconds before scolding himself. It was just a book, for God’s sake, he could read it if he wanted and Jefferson be damned. He took a seat in the nearest chair and started reading. Soon enough, he was entranced.

He had never really read any stories about libertinism but he wasn’t disappointed by that one. He lost himself in the bickering of La Marquise de Merteuil and of Le Vicomte de Valmont for the rest of the day. While he knew that libertinism was something common in France, he couldn’t see it in America. He thought that people were too prudish for that. 

He remembered his old days with John during the army, how everything was simpler back then because nothing was promised. He remembered Baron Von Steuben and his fondness for Benjamin and William, he remembered how now one really cared about what happened in his tent at night, as long as it was behind closed doors.

He couldn’t help but think of his Eliza, his sweet wife who never said a thing when she learned about his darling John. Alexander didn’t deserve her, he knew that alright, he could never deserve his wife. He was dragged out of his thoughts when he heard two people talking nearby. He quickly recognized the voices of Jefferson and his daughter. From where he was, he could see both of them but they couldn’t see him.

“What are you reading about, papa?”

“I’m reading about old myths and legends.”

“What for?”

“The more I know, the better, don’t you think?”

“Maybe,” she nodded. “But isn’t it better to learn about real things instead?”

“I already do know a lot about real things,” Thomas chuckled. “Just because they are myths and legends doesn’t mean that they’re not real.”

“I thought that they were just stories.”

“Ah, but all stories come from somewhere, don’t they?” 

“What are the legends about?” The little girl inquired, curious. 

Alexander almost chuckled when he saw her trying to peer into the book Jefferson was holding in his hands. She looked like his Angie when he worked on something in his office and she tried to crawl on his lap to see what was happening on the desk. The Virginian arched an eyebrow, amused as well.

“I thought you said it was better to learn about real things instead?” He teased. 

Polly pouted, too adorable to be taken seriously, and crossed her arms over her chest. 

“Papa, please.”

“Aight, aight,” he nodded. “Come sit next to me.”

Jefferson read to her some parts of the book. Alexander didn’t really know what it was about, he didn’t really listen to be fair, he was more concentrated on the southern drawl more than anything else. It was much more prominent than when they were at work, which could easily be comprehensible since Jefferson had to be understood by everyone when he spoke.

Any other day, he would have punched Jefferson in the throat if he spoke like that, but this time, Alexander found it strangely endearing. Maybe it was because he was reading to his daughter, paying more attention to her reactions when he said something than to the book. The smaller man tilted his head and narrowed his eyes as he observed the Virginian. He was relaxed in his chair, completely at ease in his zone of comfort. Alexander Hamilton was many things but he wasn’t blind. 

Thomas Jefferson was handsome, there was no denying in that, and given his stature, he wouldn’t be surprised if the man was well endowed too. He almost scolded himself for thinking such things but then Jefferson beamed and he forgot everything he knew.

Polly made a joke and the Southerner laughed, it was a deep, rich, honey-filled laugh that made Alexander shiver to the core. He felt like he wasn’t supposed to see him like this yet it stirred something in Alexander, even though he didn’t really know what. 

_Perhaps…_

The corners of his lips curled into a small smile. 

_Perhaps, the man has some redeeming qualities, after all._

* * *

“Ah, so you’ve found _Les liaisons dangereuses_.” 

Alexander tore his eyes from the book to look at Jefferson who stood in from of him. He had been so entranced in the story that he didn’t hear the man coming. For how long had he been there? Since it wasn’t too hot today, Alex had decided to read outside, where he wouldn’t be disturbed and Thulani told him that the garden pavilion was the perfect place to do so. While it was rather small, the windows provided the perfect amount of light to read. 

“How did you know I was there?”

“Because that’s where I come when I want to read in peace.” He replied, slightly shaking the book he held in his hand. 

“Do you want me gone?”

“No, don’t worry,” he shook his head. “There are two chairs here, do you mind?”

Alexander stared at him for a few seconds. 

“It’s your house.”

“Yes, but you were here before.”

“Well, you-”

Alexander stopped himself and pondered for a few seconds, too tired for snarky remarks.

“I don’t mind.” 

He missed Jefferson’s small smile when he sat down.

“I wasn’t aware that you could speak French.”

“I’m fluent,” Alex replied. “My mother taught me.”

“I see. What do you think of the book?”

“I think it’s interesting.”

“It is,” he nodded. “Libertinism is quite something in France.”

“No matter the gender?”

“No matter the gender,” he nodded. “You’d be surprised at how many sodomites actually are from the aristocracy.”

“Les français sont des hypocrites extraordinaires.” 

“Je ne peux qu’être d’accord avec vous.” 

“It would be a first,” he snorted. “You agreeing with me.”

“I think that there are some subjects we can agree on.”

“Is that so?”

“That book for instance,” he said. “We both like it.”

“You’re right, we do.”

“See, already one thing.”

There was a pregnant pause. 

“What are you reading?”

“Old myths and legends,” Thomas replied. “Something I acquired not so long ago and I didn’t have a chance to read it until now.”

“Is it good?”

“It is… peculiar, let’s say.”

“I didn’t know you were interested in fairytales, Thomas.” 

The way Thomas smiled made Alexander’s soul sing. He blinked for a few seconds, too dazzled to grasp the feeling that had just taken over his heart. The Virginian’s smile was alien to him yet somehow, he couldn’t prevent himself from growing fond of it. He wanted more smiles like that, instead of the usual snarls and patronizing smirks. 

“What is it?” Alex asked, confused. 

“Nothing,” the Virginian shook his head. “I just thought of something. Anyway, these are not fairytales, they are much darker than that.”

“Darker?”

“There are witches in it.”

“Do you believe in witches?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “Magic is quite something.”

“Magic could be so powerful if it existed.” Alexander mindlessly sighed. 

With magic, he could have saved his mother and his cousin. Who knows, maybe his father would have stayed, if it was for magic, maybe they wouldn’t have been so poor. He could have saved John too...

“Too much power for one person can be dangerous.” Thomas replied. 

“You need to learn to control it, then. Everything can be controlled if you really put your mind to it.”

“Still, people with powers would want to assert their dominance over normal people.”

“That’s not obviously true.”

“Yes it is and they would have a huge advantage, they could have everything they ever wanted. They would know that the opposition could never last.” 

“If magic was real, then wouldn’t the witches have already conquered us?”

“Maybe they are silently watching, observing us from afar to see how we behave.”

“Maybe they are plotting against us and we don’t stand a chance.” Alex humoured Thomas.

“Exactly.”

“Poor Thomas, I think you’re paranoid,” Alexander mocked. “Magic isn’t real.”

“What harm is there to believe in it anyway?” He hummed.

“No harm, I suppose, as long as you stay down to Earth.”

“If you see me drifting then, try to keep me anchored.” 

They spent the rest of the afternoon silently reading their books together, sparing quick looks when the other wasn’t paying attention. It felt nice, not to fight with each other for once and it was almost hard to believe that they could be in the same room without bickering. Washington would probably be proud. At some point, Alexander gazed up and his heart fluttered in his chest when he looked at the Southerner. 

The setting sun perfectly hit his face, basking his smooth dark skin into a golden glow, and forming a halo around his hair. His eyes turned honey, slightly reminding Alexander of the amber necklace his mother used to wear, as he squinted them to read better. As he’d said before, Alexander wasn’t blind, Thomas Jefferson truly looked like a piece of art. He contemplated him for a few seconds, pondering over the idea of something that could happen between them. He was far from repulsed by the thought, Thomas wouldn’t be his first Southerner, after all. 

The consequences would be dire but he didn’t want to think about them. Was there any real harm in fantasizing about someone? As long as he kept it to himself, it wouldn’t be a problem. Would the older man even be interested in the first place? He doubted it. Thomas was from Virginia and from a conservative family, it wasn’t hard to guess where his beliefs regarding sodomy stood. Still… Alexander could work with that. He always liked a good challenge and Thomas seemed to be the perfect guinea pig. Sure, the man may have virtue, but as long as he abandoned it to rush into Alexander’s arms, it wouldn’t matter anymore. 

“Alexander.” 

“Yes?”

“Maybe we should head back inside. It’s getting late and we still have to eat.”

“Alright.”

* * *

Thomas liked his garden pavilion because it was quiet there. He liked the way the sun shone through the window at the end of the day and he liked how he could peacefully sip his wine with a good book in his hand. Sure, he had not expected to find Alexander sitting in there in the first place, but he wasn’t really surprised to have the man reading something. He had noticed that _Les liaisons dangereuses_ was no longer in the bookshelves and while he had been surprised by the choice of literature, from what he saw, he could tell that Alexander enjoyed it.

Thomas took pleasure in having a normal conversation with the man and he couldn’t but shiver at the possibility of actually getting along with him. They didn’t need to be political allies, they both knew that it would never work, but if outside the Congress they could be more than just rivals… it would be nice. He’d like to have a relationship similar to the one he had with James with Alexander. He’d like to consider him a friend, perhaps. 

“Was your mother French?” Thomas asked over dinner. 

It was just the two them now, Polly had long gone to bed and all the servants had left the room. 

“No,” he shook his head. “She was from the West Indies but people spoke Creole there too. She wanted me to know, she told me that it would be useful later.”

“She was a smart woman.”

“She really was,” he nodded. “The smartest.”

There was a pause. 

“What happened to her?”

There it was, the question that had been burning Thomas’ lips ever since he’d heard the immigrant cry about his mother, not so long ago. 

_“I am not what they say,” he clenched his fists, hard. “My mom wasn’t…” he whispered, his eyes filling with tears. “She wasn’t a whore.”_

The Virginian didn’t think that Alexander would actually tell him anything. He knew how sensitive this subject could be and if the younger man were to snap at him, he wouldn’t even be mad nor surprised. 

“We got sick with yellow fever,” Alexander replied. “Medicine was very expensive and we could only afford it for one person. She refused to take them.”

_As any mother would have._

“She was holding me,” he whispered. “We were sick and she was holding me.”

Thomas’ hand itched to grab the immigrant’s, to squeeze it and to make him understand that he was there for him, that he could count on him, that his shoulder was something that Alexander could shed tears on and rely on.

“I’m sorry, Alexander.”

“Do you want to hear something ironic, Thomas?” he asked and didn’t wait for an answer to reply. “I don’t remember how my mother looked like. I don’t remember how her kisses felt like before I went to bed. I only remember the cold of her skin, I only remember how she felt when I woke up and that she was gone.” 

Thomas stared in shock at the younger man. His eyes were half-lidded and shimmered as he stared at his drink. He swirled the wine in the glass in his hands, completely shifting his focus on it instead of meeting the Virginian’s eyes. He didn’t want pity, he hated it, he was no charity case. He shouldn’t have drunk so much, now that he thought about it. 

“My father died when I was fourteen and honestly, I don’t really remember much of him,” Thoams said. “My mother took over the estate and soon I had to become the man in the house since I was the eldest son. It wasn’t easy but… my mother helped, she really did.”

He smiled. 

“I wish she was still around to guide Polly.” 

“What happened to her?”

“She got sick too.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.”

There was another pause and Alexander shifted. 

“She made me love music, you know.”

“Can you play?”

“A few things,” he nodded. “Most violin.”

“You can play the violin?”

“I can.”

“Could you play something now?”

“It’s rather late, Alexander.”

“Please.”

The way Alexander looked at him with his large brown eyes and his slightly parted lips should have been illegal. How could he deny him anything when he looked like that and asked so nicely? Thomas shivered at the power the immigrant already had on him but he simply blamed his intoxicated mind. He stared at him for a few seconds, before sighing and getting up. 

“Wait here, I’ll bring my violin.”

It didn’t take him too long since his study was only a few rooms away. He was pleased to see that Alexander hadn’t moved an inch when he came back. He moved his wrist a few times and made a mental note to put his hand in cold water afterwards so it wouldn't hurt too much in the morning.

Alexander felt warm, probably because of the heat and of the wine but he was pretty sure that Thomas Jefferson wearing only his shirt with no waistcoat or jacket and poising with his violin played a big part in it as well. The man closed his eyes and started playing. Alex knew that he was good, because of course, why wouldn’t he be? 

Thomas lost himself in the music, the world around him had completely disappeared, and his soul was chasing each note and perfectly playing them in a melancholic tune that reminded Alexander of the summer nights he spent with his mother and James on the beach. If his Angie was there, she would be screaming because Alexander knew how much his daughter loved the sound of violin even though she couldn’t play it to save her life. Once he was done, the Virginian dramatically bowed and sat on the chair that was right next to Alexander. The latter blinked at the sudden proximity but didn’t say anything about it.

“Colour me impressed.”

“So the mighty Alexander Hamilton can be impressed by me, after all.”

“By your musical talent, that is,” he replied. “I don’t think that your work is worth mentioning.”

“I wrote the Declaration of Independence.” He retorted. 

“Yeah, right.”

“Don’t you ever put that mouth of yours in good use, Alexander?” he asked. “Instead of insulting everyone with it?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Alexander cocked his head and stared at him. Thomas couldn’t help to be drawn to the immigrant’s plump red lips and he wondered how they would feel like against his. Would they be soft and taste like his expensive red wine? The thought was scandalous but the two empty bottles on the table spoke for themselves and soon Thomas had completely forgotten about any decency he may have. 

He let out a shaky breath when Alexander’s hand found his face, his fingers gently stroking his jawline. His hands didn’t feel soft, they were calloused because of writing but Thomas wouldn’t want it any different. How could he feel even drunker because of another one’s touch? Most importantly, another man’s touch. Strangely… he didn’t feel repulsed by it.

If having these mixed feelings toward Alexander was wrong, Thomas didn’t want to be right. He contemplated the other man, trying so hard to understand what was happening in his brain but he quickly gave up because he knew that Alexander Hamilton was a riddle that couldn’t be solved. He didn’t even realize that he leaned into the immigrant’s touch until he could feel the other man’s breath on his face.

“Thomas, you look so-”

“Papa?” 

The two men quickly withdrew from one another as a small sleepy figure entered the room.

“I apologize, darlin’,” Thomas said. “I didn’t mean to wake you up with the violin, Mr. Hamilton wanted to hear me.”

“You didn’t wake me up, I had a nightmare.”

“A nightmare?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

She looked at Alexander and the man clearly understood that she wasn’t comfortable sharing it with her father while he was here. Thomas seemed to sense it as well because he merely sighed and kissed the top of her head. 

“I’m gonna take you to bed and you’ll tell me, okay?”

“Okay,” she nodded. “Goodnight Mr. Hamilton.”

“Goodnight Polly.”

The immigrant slightly smiled when she grabbed her father’s hand and waved him goodbye. Thomas didn’t say anything when he left the room, he didn’t even spare him a glance and soon enough, Alexander found himself alone. He merely shook his head and drained his glass in one gulp, wincing at the taste of the wine that was no longer sweet.

* * *

[fanart](https://tinywhim.tumblr.com/post/623739513830785024/shanshala-alexander-cocked-his-head-and-stared)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do you even like this story? 
> 
> here's the translation of Laf's note: 
> 
> "My dear Thomas,
> 
> Adrienne bought this book for entertainment quite a few years ago, and I must confess, my friend, that I grew fond of it. The story is so bawdy and new, I can only recommend it to you. It will not bring you anything in terms of politics, but I do believe that a good distraction from time to time is always the most welcome.
> 
> Adieu, my dearest friend, may we see each other very soon.
> 
> Gilbert."


	7. SWEET IS THE TASTE OF THE FORBIDDEN FRUIT

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander and Thomas work on the debt plan and on themselves too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's for Gagakuma, who needed a little bit of cheering up.  
> It's for whatdidimissjm, for Shanshala, for Jade, for writtenrevolution, for Guinivere (check her insta [trig.o.no.me.try] because her art is *Italian kiss*) and for my darling Kamila.  
> Side notes: Big thanks to cyanspica, who literally listened to me for the past month and please, please go check out their story 'Death of a Nation' cause it's literally one of the best things I have ever read, no kidding. It's a jamilmads story taking place in a zombie apocalypse and it's as amazing as it sounds.  
> Warnings: strong language, Thomas' accent, mentions of sex, smut.  
> Words: 6627

**chapter 4**

_sweet is the taste of the forbidden fruit_

Things were odd because nothing had changed yet everything had. Alexander didn’t show anything about whatever happened between them a few days ago and Thomas didn’t know if he was supposed to be relieved or offended. When it came to him, the Southerner was lost. He hated himself for thinking about the immigrant at night in the privacy of his bedroom, behind closed doors. He hated himself for being so conflicted over a matter that shouldn’t have been a thing in the first place. 

He quickly understood that he had no control over the situation when it came to his attraction to Alexander, leaving him with only a few solutions. Thomas figured that he could simply avoid him until the end of his stay but he knew that it wouldn’t really work because the immigrant was too stubborn to be ignored and they hadn’t talked about his debt plan yet. His other solution would be pretending, he could pretend that he wasn’t affected by the immigrant, he could hide behind a mask as he always had; but who knew how long it was going to take until it cracked? Alexander had the ability to get under his skin like no one else, after all. 

Despite everything, Thomas still wanted to be on good terms with him, if not for friendship, then for political favours. While he hated the politician that Alexander was, Thomas was no fool and he knew that the immigrant had a lot of influence within the Federalist party. If he could count on him for votes, the power his party could get in Congress would be tremendous. He had to play his cards carefully and he had to make sure that he wouldn’t fall under the charms of Alexander Hamilton. 

Thomas wasn’t blind, he could see how the immigrant held himself, how flirty he would get whenever he felt like it. He never replied though, because he knew very well how it would end and it was not a conceivable option at the moment, or ever. No, the only viable option he had for the moment was to repress all of his feelings and to pray that they would never come out. 

* * *

“Thomas, when are we going to work on my debt plan? I’ve been here for ages.”

“Alexander, you’ve been here for just a couple of weeks,” Thomas snorted as he continued to read his book. “You are being dramatic.”

“Well with you it feels like ages,” he frowned, crossing his arms. “You told me that I needed to rest, well I’m rested.”

“You really think that I don’t hear you writing at night?”

“How can you-?”

“The house is quiet at night, Alexander.”

_Maybe we could change that._

“I slept and I ate, I am rested,” he said. “Can we work now?”

Thomas looked over his book and met Alexander’s eyes. He knew that the immigrant was growing restless every passing day and that he would simply never stop bothering him until he got what he wanted. Well, he had no one else to blame but himself because if Alexander was in Monticello, it was because of him. He sighed and went back to reading his book. There was no way that his first reading of the draft would be with the immigrant himself because he knew that the younger man would be too abrasive and that they would fight over literally everything. 

“Leave me your debt plan and I’ll revise it.”

“ _You_ will revise it?” he blinked. “Don’t you need me there?”

“I don’t need you, Alexander,” he said, trying so hard to convince himself. “I’m pretty sure I can read the document on my own.”

“Fine.” Alexander huffed like a petulant child. “What am I supposed to do then?”

“I am sure you can find yourself an occupation.” 

* * *

Alexander found good company in Thulani and she seemed to like him as well. He corrected her whenever she would sign something grammatically incorrect and stayed with her to have someone to talk to, someone that wasn’t a tall velveted prick who pretended to be too busy to actually work on his debt plan. Now that he had given him the work of his life, Alexander could only wait and that was something he didn’t like, especially with such a tense frustration coursing through his veins. 

He remembered how he’d wanted to tempt Thomas but the man wasn’t as receptive as Alexander thought he would be, yet again with his Southern upbringing, it wasn’t surprising. He’d managed to get close to him a few days ago but now the Virginian kept his guard up and that was nothing he could do. As he walked in through the corridors, Alexander couldn’t help but think of his darling wife and children. Were they okay? Did they miss him? He had yet to receive a letter from Eliza but then his wife didn’t write half as much as he did. He passed by the portrait of a woman and stopped to look at it. 

She looked like a human work of art. She was lighter-skinned than Thomas but shared similar curly hair that was much longer and braided with flowers. Her eyes were a pretty shade of brown that slightly reminded him of Polly. She held herself with grace and it didn’t take him long to see the small sign below it with Martha Jefferson written on it. Alexander admired her for a while, captivated by her features, it was as if she were something from another world.

He could almost picture her and a younger Thomas together, a handsome couple for sure, strolling down the garden in Monticello. Alexander had no idea that Thomas was married before all of this, hell he didn’t even know that the fellow had children too. What happened to Martha? He remembered the Virginian saying that she passed away but he didn't give any details about it. He snapped out of his thoughts when he heard a familiar voice talk to him. 

“Hello, Mister Hamilton.” The little girl bowed and smiled.

“Good afternoon Polly,” he replied. “How are you?”

“Fine, but slightly disappointed that Papa is working today. I wanted to spend the day with him.”

Alexander felt guilty for having given his debt plan to the Southerner. Had he known that his daughter wanted to spend time with Thomas, the immigrant would have just waited until tomorrow. He wondered what she did to occupy herself in such a huge house with no children around, except for slaves. Did she play with them? He doubted it. Then he remembered that since she was a young girl from the upper class, her days were busy. He recalled some of the discussions he had with Eliza regarding her education and how she had been taught to dance, sing, play the piano… He also pitied women but then he quickly remembered that men also had to learn things like that as well if they were part of the aristocracy. 

“What are you doing to do then?”

“I’m probably going to practice playing chess,” she sighed. “Usually papa plays with me.”

“I can play with you if you want.”

“Really?” She beamed and Alexander felt his heart melt.

He dearly missed his kids and being around Polly eased his pain and ennui, it would also provide a good distraction. He merely smiled and nodded as a response. 

“That’s really kind of you, Mister Hamilton.”

“It’s alright,” he reassured. “I am sure you can teach me a few things.”

It was impossible for someone to hate Polly Jefferson. The young girl was bright and talented, too sweet for you to hold any grudge toward her for too long. Alexander was not surprised to see that she was pretty good at playing chess, considering who her father was. He let her win a couple of times, knowing how important it was for children to feel superior to adults when it came to certain practices. Hopefully, one day she would become better than Thomas and Alexander would be able to make fun of him for that.

“I hope that Papa won’t work too much this summer,” she sighed. “He gets quickly stressed.”

“I guess that’s how it goes when you’re a politician.”

“You’re a politician too,” she noted. “Are you stressed?”

“I live my life in a constant state of stress.”

Her eyes grew wide and it was clear that Polly didn’t know if she was supposed to laugh at the man or simply pity him. 

“But what do you do, when things get too stressful?”

_My wife and maybe, one day, your father._

“I spend time with my children,” he replied instead because he didn’t want to traumatize the poor child and to have to deal with a furious Thomas Jefferson afterwards. “We play together, we pull out some pranks.”

“Pranks?” 

“Yes,” he nodded. “We liked to prank my wife,” he fondly recalled with a smile. “She never saw it coming, though.”

“What kind of pranks?”

“Well, you see…”

* * *

Thomas was amazed by the fact that his head wasn’t hurting after he read the whole financial plan and edited most of it. He already knew the parts where Alexander wouldn’t agree with him and he was grateful to know that he didn’t have to deal with him tonight. He spent the day locked in the library, working on the immigrant’s debt plan, only to be called later by Betty so that he would join Polly and Alexander in the dining room. 

“No talk about your plan before tomorrow.” He said as a greeting as he sat next to his daughter.

“But-”

“I won’t repeat it,” he replied. “I’m very tired and I don’t want to talk about it.’

“Fine.” Alexander huffed like a petulant child and Polly hid a giggle behind her hand. 

He merely winked at her. 

“Papa?”

“Yes, darlin’?”

“Do ghosts exist?”

“Why do you ask?” He blinked, confused.

“Because I heard about it in a book I’ve read a few days ago and I was just wondering if it was real.”

“No darlin’,” he shook his head. “Ghosts don’t exist, it’s only fairy tales.”

“Thank God.” She dramatically sighed. 

“Why?”

“Well, in the books, ghosts are not nice, so I’m glad to know that they’re not around.” She honestly replied. 

“I see.” 

Polly told him about his day and about how she beat Mister Hamilton at chess. Thomas arched an eyebrow at the younger man but Alexander merely smiled as a response while sipping his wine. When it was late enough, Polly went to bed and it was just once again the two of them in the room, except that this time, Thomas wasn’t going to be fooled by Alexander’s big eyes and plump lips. He would even retire early so that he wouldn’t succumb to the immigrant’s charms. 

“Polly is a sweet child,” Alexander said out of nowhere. “Though she was disappointed when she heard that you were busy today.”

“And who’s fault was that?” He arched an eyebrow. 

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “Had I known that you had planned to spend the time with your daughter, I would have waited.”

“Oh really? I thought that work was more important than family?”

“It is important,” Alex conceded. “But I know how important it is for a child to spend time with their parents.”

“Why didn’t you join your wife upstate, then?”

“I told you, Thomas, I had so much work to do.”

“You’re a complicated man, Alexander.”

“Aren’t we all?”

* * *

Thomas noticed that Alexander was spending a lot of time with Polly and while it pained his poor politician heart, he could clearly see that his daughter adored the immigrant. They would talk about literature, poetry, history… whatever subject that captured Polly’s attention long enough for her to read about it. He had to admit that seeing Alexander becoming close to his daughter was an unexpected surprise but a pleasant one. He could see the father the immigrant probably was with his children and it cast him in a whole new light, something unknown and different, yet, Thomas liked being able to see that part of Alexander, that part that only his wife got to see. 

How did it feel like to be Elizabeth Hamilton? Thomas quickly dismissed the thought as he scribbled some edits down. Where did that thought come from in the first place? Just because Alexander was acting decent didn’t mean anything but still, he couldn’t help but wonder. He remembered the day he'd caught a glimpse of the immigrant while they read together in the garden pavilion and Thomas had no idea that someone could look so beautiful in the light of the sun. 

He had always been so used to seeing Alexander in a professional way, always seeing him for the politician that he was and not for the actual man underneath everything else. Seeing him in such a private way made him understand that there was something more to Alexander than he had first thought. He didn’t know much about the man’s life, only that it was tainted by tragedy and misfortune.

“You rewrote the whole thing!” Alexander complained. 

“No, I merely edited your debt plan,” Thomas sighed. “I didn’t change everything.”

The two politicians were seated in Thomas’ office, with Alexander hovering over his shoulder as he pointed out some modifications that had been made on his proposal.

“All I see is notes everywhere!”

“That’s how editing works.”

"What about this? We have to keep it!"

“No Alexander, this section has to go.”

“But if you take of this section then pages 13 and 14 don’t make any sense!” 

Alexander then threw himself in a long monologue about his choice of words and his ideas and to be fair, Thomas simply stopped listening to him and admired him instead. Alexander burned with a passion that probably matched the fire of hell. It didn’t him too long for his mind to fantasize about how passionate Alexander would be in the bedroom. He was sure that the man would be a talker, he couldn’t picture him being silent during the act. 

“Thomas, are you even listening to what I’m saying?”

“Yes,” he lied. “You’re just saying a lot of bullshit.”

That was enough to keep Alexander going for another hour.

* * *

“What am I doing, Martha?”

No one was up at this hour and it was perfect because Thomas liked the quiet. He sighed as he looked at his wife’s portrait, hoping that it would give him the answer he so wanted to hear. He was lost and soon enough he would find himself in a situation with no escape. He looked at his Martha, her ethereal essence trapped in the panting he commissioned a few days after their marriage. There was not a single day where his heart did not long for her and yet her presence seemed to fade whenever Alexander was around.

“What was she like?”

Thomas turned his head, slightly startled by the sudden appearance of the immigrant. He didn’t hear him coming but then again, he was not really surprised, Alexander could be quiet when he wanted and he had been too drawn by his wife’s painting to actually notice the world around him. He took a few seconds to observe the smaller man, noticing how he wasn’t wearing a nightgown but his day clothes despite how late it was. His waistcoat was missing and his shirt hung dangerously low, allowing Thomas to catch a glimpse of his tanned skin. 

“Like a midsummer night,” he said. “Sweet, warm... perfect.”

“What happened to her?”

“She got sick not so long after giving birth,” he replied. “She was a fighter, my Martha, but it wasn’t enough.”

“I’m sorry, Thomas,” Alexander sincerely said. “Losing a loved is not an easy burden to bear.”

“It was seven years ago but…” he paused. “I can’t seem to get over it.”

There was a pregnant pause.

“I lost someone important as well and I know how hard it can be.”

“Someone important?”

“Someone I loved very much so.”

“Was it your mother?” He asked, recalling the previous conversations he had with him about her.

“No,” he shook his head. “A dear friend of mine. He was… the best, really,” he said with a kind of smile that Thomas had never seen before. “A loyal friend, gone too soon.”

“You make it sound like he was more than a friend.”

Alexander merely looked at him for a few seconds. 

“You couldn’t sleep?”

“No,” Thomas replied. “I can’t seem to.”

“Would you like some company, perhaps?”

Thomas’ eyebrows rose as he took the information in. 

“Surely you wouldn’t…”

Alexander frowned when he saw the Southerner’s expression and then laughed. 

“I was merely thinking about drinking a glass of wine, Thomas.”

The Virginian averted his eyes and blushed in shame. He should have known better than to assume, especially when it came to Alexander because there was no possibility for him to know what he was thinking. He pondered for a few seconds, wondering if it really was a good idea to open a bottle with the man he was trying very hard not to think of. The immigrant seemed to sense his hesitation because he spoke again with a smile.

“We both know that alcohol helps when you want sleep to find you.”

He did have a point. 

“I guess that one glass can’t hurt.”

They decided to go to the south square sitting room for more privacy, with only one bottle of wine because Thomas would be damned before he ended drunk on his bedroom floor. He thanked the immigrant as he poured the wine and relaxed in his chair. He was glad to be almost done with the debt plan. Now that the edits were almost all made, he knew that Jimmy would be more than inclined to actually accept it. 

“She was beautiful, your wife.”

“She was,” he nodded. “I couldn’t quite believe my luck.”

“That, I can understand, though she also was a lucky one, considering the dapper fellow that you are.”

“Now you’re just flattering me,” he narrowed his eyes. “You want to change some edits on your debt plans, don’t you?”

Alexander merely chuckled and shook his head. 

“I am simply stating the facts.”

“That you find me dapper?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “Among other things.”

“Other things?” He arched an eyebrow, interested in what the immigrant had to say. 

“Things that, I’m afraid, would make a maiden blush if I were to say them out loud.”

Thomas’ eyes were round and wide when he looked up to meet Alexander’s gaze. Surely, it was more than just pleasant flattering now, wasn’t it? His eyes trailed on the immigrant’s lips for a few seconds, before he shook his head. How could the younger man say such things so openly? Wasn’t he scared to be overheard by someone? Wasn’t he scared that Thomas would use his words like ammunitions? His words were tactless and blunt but it didn’t seem like Alexander cared.

“Why are you doing this, Alexander?”

“What do you mean?”

“This behaviour of yours that you have toward me…” he paused. “Why?”

“Because… you are interesting, Thomas.”

“Am I just something for you to play with?” He frowned. 

Alexander immediately reached out and grabbed his hand. 

“Not at all,” he promised. “I just can’t keep myself away from you, it seems.”

“Why?”

“Pourquoi vous fâcheriez-vous d’un sentiment que vous avez fait naître?”

“Are you really quoting _Les Liaisons Dangereuses_ right now?”

“I thought you liked it.”

“I do, but not when it’s turned against me.”

“ _‘Turned against you’_ ,” he mocked. “You make it seems like you’re the victim here.”

“Aren’t I, though?”

“Oh Thomas, we are both to be held accountable for our actions.” Alexander placidly replied. “Whatever they are.”

“It’s not-” He stopped himself.

“What is it?”

“It’s not right, Alexander, what you are implying.”

The younger man let go of his hand and leaned back into his seat. Thomas already missed the warmth he provided despite the heat. 

“Men are so quick to decide what is right and what is wrong,” he hummed, taking a sip of his drink. “Funny how it is.”

“Funny?” He scoffed.

“Why would people be interested in what happens behind closed doors?” his eyes met Thomas’. “Why do they care about things that have nothing to do with them in the first place?”

What surprised Thomas was how calm Alexander was, considering the subject they were talking about. Personally, the Virginian had nothing to say against it, he had been in France long enough to know that the pleasures of the flesh did not stop at feminine curves, even though he had never tried it himself. He squirmed in his seat, uncomfortable under the younger man’s piercing gaze. 

“You seem to know what you’re talking about.”

Alexander’s lips curled into a knowing smirk. 

“War makes us do things, Thomas,” he said. “When times are dark and getting darker, you seek comfort where you can, Thomas.”

“So it’s true then.”

“What?”

“That…” he averted his eyes as he spoke, almost blushing. “Soldiers were... intimate with each other.”

“We were at war Thomas, scared, cold and lonely, can you blame us?”

“It’s not-” he paused. “It’s not right.”

“What? To be attracted to someone?”

“To be attracted to a man when you are one.”

“Says who?” He asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Says the Bible.”

“I never took you for a religious person Thomas.”

“I’m-”

“If God made me attracted to both men and women, is it really my fault?”

“Are you blaming God then?” He asked in disbelief.

“I’ll blame whoever I see fit to get what I want.”

“And what do you want?”

Alexander observed him for a few seconds before speaking again.

“Do you have any wine left?”

“I don’t think it would be wise, after everything we drank tonight.”

“I don’t think that me being in Monticello is wise, considering our past, Thomas.”

“Must you always have an answer for everything?”

“Yes.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Ah, yes, but you like it.” He grinned.

“Do I, though?”

“You would have kicked me out if you didn’t like it.”

“Maybe it’s just my Southern hospitality.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Thomas.”

“Well, we can both see that I can’t sleep,” he pointed out and Alexander chuckled. “So nothing really helps me.”

Thomas loved that sound. 

“And what is it, Thomas?” Alexander softly spoke. “What thoughts are preventing you from sleeping?”

Thomas had the impression that whatever he was going to say, Alexander already knew the answer, the real one. He could lie, he could say that he missed his wife, but then again, it wouldn’t really be a lie, would it? He wondered, did Alexander dream about him at night? Were his thoughts plagued by his person? Did the immigrant dream of him in the bedroom? Did he dream about having his mouth everywhere on him?

“It’s getting late,” he said, raising from this seat. “We should retire.”

“Are you running away from me, Thomas?” Alexander gently asked. 

His touch on his hand was so soft, his body language an invitation in itself. Thomas swallowed hard as he eyed the younger man. He looked so beautiful in the light of the fireplace, so much younger than him. He wondered how Alexander looked like when he was in the army, vibrating with youth and cockiness, ready to fight for their freedom. 

_A sight to behold, I’m sure._

He didn’t notice that Alexander had made him sit once again and was now on his knees in front of him. He was still holding him, while his free hand was on his thigh, applying a soft, comforting pressure. It was strange because despite being the one towering over Alexander he was not fooled for one second into thinking that he was the one in power. Thomas swallowed once again, consumed by Alexander’s eyes. There was nowhere he could go, he had no place to hide. His sin was for Alexander to see. 

“Are you?” Alexander asked once again. 

“No.” He lied. 

The immigrant slightly smiled, but there was no mockery nor mischief. Thomas had never seen him smile that way to him and he found himself liking it. He looked so soft, so kind, compared to the hurricane he was on a daily basis. Alexander’s thumb was gently stroking the back of his hand, his touch almost burning him. 

“There’s no need to be afraid, Thomas,” he reassured. “I promise.”

“How can you say that?” He frowned, his voice slightly breaking. 

“Do you trust me?”

_Yes._

Alexander seemed to have found the answer he wanted because he leaned in, slowly, as if to give Thomas a chance to back away if needed. There was no way to know who initiated the kiss because they both met halfway. When Alexander’s lips touched his, Thomas felt like he could finally breathe. It felt as if the world had stopped spinning on its axis and that he was finally home. His grip on Alexander’s hand tightened but the man merely cupped his face with his other one as a response. 

It was nothing like Thomas had ever imagined at night. It wasn’t messy or rushed, it seemed that Alexander was taking his time, which almost made him laugh because the immigrant was known for his restless pace. It didn’t take him too long for him to understand that Alexander was being slow for him so that he wouldn’t get scared. When he sensed that Thomas was more relaxed, his press against the other man’s lips grew more urgent, his tongue invading his mouth. 

The Southerner’s hand made its way to Alexander’s hair and the immigrant moaned as he slightly tugged on it. The mere sound made Thomas’ knees go weak and he was grateful to be sitting or else he would have just melted on the floor. Despite the heated kiss, Alexander’s touch was gentle and it threw him off guard. The immigrant never really struck him as a gentle lover, quite the contrary in fact, surely because of the way he behaved on a daily basis.

It was almost too good to make him forget about the fact that what they were doing was completely illegal. His thoughts caught up on that detail and he froze. What the hell was he doing? How could he be kissing a man? Even worse than that, how could he take pleasure from it? It was wrong, it was so wrong. He should have been disgusted by Alexander’s lips on his, with his goatee brushing against his chin, with his hands finding his hair. He snapped out of it and drew away from the immigrant as if he had been burned. 

“We can’t-”

“It’s alright Thomas,” the other man soothed. “It’s alright.”

Truly, it wasn’t. Thomas knew all too well the consequence this could have in their lives. He couldn’t help but think of his Polly and Martha, who could become orphans were the events taking place in his room reported to the authorities. How could he be so selfish? How could he think that it was just about him, about them? 

“We could be killed for this.” He breathed, frowning. 

“We are all made to die at some point, aren’t we?”

“You’re not being serious about this.” Thomas sighed and started pulling away. 

In a flash, Alexander’s hands were around his neck and he brought the taller man closer, straddling his lap. Thomas, surprised by the sudden movement, had to catch himself from stumbling and rested his hands on Alexander’s hips to keep him balanced. He wondered if the chair was going to break from their weight but it merely cracked under the pressure. He hated himself for thinking that, but the perfect weight was Alexander’s body pressed on him.

“I can’t seem to die, Thomas,” he whispered. “Ever since I was a child I saw death grip the heart of people I loved, squeezing the life out of them. I know that nothing is promised, not even one day, what I know is that there are some things that are worth dying for.”

Did he even hear what he was saying? How could this man always be so eager to fight and to die all the time? Was it why he didn’t care about the consequences of his words or actions? Why did he live like he had something to prove and nothing to lose? Didn’t he have a family to think about? 

“You have a wife.” Thomas reminded him.

“She’s not here.”

“You’re not being fair.” He murmured, averting his eyes.

“Life never is,” he softly retorted. “Look, if you do not want to do this, we won’t,” he promised. “We’ll forget everything that has ever happened between us and go back to our lives.”

“Do you want to?”

“No, I don’t,” he honestly replied. “And you should know, I’m definitely worth dying for.” He added with a curl of his lips to ease the tension.

Thomas couldn’t help but chuckle. He chuckled because he knew that Alexander was right, he was worth dying for. Still, how could they make it work? They were two men in a world in which sodomy was a sin. Thomas knew that he was not a perfect man and that his place was not in Heaven, if there even was such a thing. Would he still be able to redeem himself and see Martha again? 

“And you Thomas, what do you want?”

Despite all of his better judgement, the Virginian pressed his lips against Alexander’s once again. His arms circled the immigrant and he pulled him closer, wishing that nothing was between them, wishing that their bodies could just melt together on the floor. 

“Where is your bedroom?”

“Right after the corridor.” Thomas breathed, diving back in for another kiss. 

He let out a whine, far too gone to be embarrassed about it, when Alexander detached himself from him and took his hand to lead him elsewhere. His heart was pounding in his ears, he felt high, so high on adrenaline, he had the impression he could fight the whole world with his bare hands. Thomas was at loss as they entered the bedroom but he breathed in relief when he saw that Alex knew exactly what to do. 

“Everything’s gonna be okay,” he promised. “Here, I’ll show you.”

Thomas let Alexander lie him down on the bed, coaxingly, eying him like he was the prettiest thing he had ever seen. The immigrant slowly unbuttoned Thomas’ waistcoat and the Virginian held his breath, not daring to move as Alexander worked his magic. His breeches were too tight, too uncomfortable and he let out a whimper when Alexander’s hand pressed against his growing bulge. His lips were on his once again and he lost himself in the immigrant’s touch. Soon enough Thomas was completely bare to the Federalist, his fists clenching the sheets as he tried not to squirm under the immigrant’s gaze. The raven-haired man admired him, taking his time as his eyes travelled from his chest to his crouch.

“How can you be…” Alexander murmured, staring at his abs. “Like this?”

No one had ever looked at him like that, not even his Martha. 

“Thomas, you’re beautiful.”

Thomas glowed under Alexander’s praises, hating how it was so easy for the other man to sweep him off his feet, to make him feel like a flustered maiden. The Immigrant’s lips grazed against his skin and Thomas bit the inside of his cheeks so that he wouldn’t let out any noise. The Federalist placed his hands on the Virginian’s hips and gazed up to meet his eyes. 

“Do you trust me?”

Thomas slowly nodded. 

“I need words, Thomas. Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” he cleared his throat. “Yes, I trust you, Alexander.”

“Good.”

He then dipped his head and took him whole in his mouth. Thomas’ eyes grew wide as he let out a shout, his back arching, chasing the warmth of Alexander’s mouth. Was it how Heaven left like? Had he reached it yet, with the immigrant between his legs and his cock deep in his throat? He wouldn’t mind going that way, in the depth of his sin, at least he would die a happy man. When was the last time that he had been touched like that? Too long, too fucking long. 

When he gazed down, he met Alexander’s eyes and his heart almost gave out. The man seemed to be observing him, watching his reaction to his ministrations. He studied how Thomas’ breath hitched whenever his tongue lapped on his slit, careful to register every little thing that he liked or not. Thomas was tight, almost like a rope ready to snap and at Alexander’s mercy to bend as he saw fit. Too soon, he felt the familiar warmth building up in his loins and he had to push the immigrant away so that he wouldn’t spill into his mouth. 

“What’s happening?” Alex’s voice was gentle, his lips trailing on Thomas’ thighs.

“You’re still dressed,” he mumbled, staring at everything but his eyes. “That’s not fair.”

Alexander chuckled and shook his head. 

“Undress me then.”

It clearly was a power play. With shaking hands, Thomas discarded Alex's shirt on the floor. He gulped when he felt the immigrant’s erection against his hand as he took off his breeches, and bit his lips appreciatively as he eyed the other man’s cock. Alexander’s head was titled, gauging Thomas’ reaction and he smiled before pulling him into a passionate kiss. Soon enough, he was straddling the man, griding on him as he explored Thomas’ mouth, chasing the taste of the wine they'd drunk earlier.

Naked bodies pressed together, hot lips down his throat, dark hair spilling on his shoulder and hushed whispers. Thomas’ skin felt too small for him, he felt too hot, too much but at the same time, it wasn’t enough, he wanted more, he needed more, he needed whatever the younger man had to offer. Alexander’s touch set his skin ablaze with a gentleness that was almost unbecoming from him. When the Federalist’s hand found his cock once again, Thomas felt like he was going to burst into a million pieces.

“Alexander, please,” he begged. “Please, I need- I need you, please.”

“Shhhh,” Alexander shushed. “I’ve got you, mon doudou, I’ve got you.”

Thomas had no idea what the immigrant called him, it sounded like French but he never heard it in Paris. Alexander left him just for a moment to grab something in his pocket, before ravishing his mouth once again. He should have guessed that Alexander would be a good kisser, with his soft plump lips that looked so beautiful wrapped around his cock, as if they belonged there.

“I’m going to do something I know you’ll love, okay?” Alexander asked him. 

Thomas merely nodded as an answer. He saw the immigrant open a small bottle of… was it oil? and pour it on his fingers. He kissed him once again as his hands travelled between his legs until he reached his entrance. The thought of being touched in such an intimate place didn’t disgust Thomas, contrary to have he had expected. Then again, Alexander had taken his time into reassuring him and making him feel comfortable first.

“I trust you.” He said before Alexander could open his mouth. 

The Federalist merely smiled before sliding one digit in. Thomas immediately tensed and sensing his reaction, Alexander nibbled his neck, whispering sweet nothings so that he would think of something else. After a few seconds, he relaxed, allowing the immigrant to tease him thoroughly. What he considered an invasion way too overwhelming a few minutes ago soon proved to be not enough and he quickly voiced his frustration to his lover. Then there were two fingers inside of him, scissoring, a promise of something much bigger to come.

“Alex-”

“I need to prepare you before Thomas,” he chided. “I don’t want you to be hurt, okay?”

The Southerner grunted, sweat glistening on his bare torso as he observed the man working him open. When the immigrant deemed that it was time, he put some oil on his shaft before pressing his tip against Thomas’ entrance. The Virginian tensed but Alexander gently kissed his chest until he relaxed. 

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

It hurt like hell. Thomas felt like he was slowly being ripped in two, he wanted to cry, he wanted to shout but he merely gritted his teeth as Alexander took his sweet time to bottom him out. He knew that it was for the best because had he rushed, it would have been so much worse. The immigrant stilled once he was fully inside of his lover, letting out a shaky breath as he did so. 

Thomas couldn’t help but wonder about Alexander’s past lovers and he wondered about the last time the man had fucked a man. The immigrant slowly moved, as if to give time for Thomas to accustom himself to the feeling of being full. After a few minutes, he gently rocked with more vigour, tearing a blissful moan from the Virginian. That was all he needed and with a snap of his hips, Alexander lost himself in Thomas’ presence. 

Alexander’s pace was restless, almost always hitting the perfect spot over and over again. One of his hands found the small of Thomas’ back while the other was in his hair. When they kissed their teeth clashed and it was more biting than anything else, something that reminded Thomas of their debates, but it was delightfully, sinfully good. Alexander told him how good he felt, how perfect he was and while Thomas did not have a praise kink, he couldn’t help but preen under the immigrant’s words. 

He felt like he was suffocating, having Alexander rocking into him the way he did was pure bliss. He never wanted to stop, he wanted this moment to last forever. Thomas had his fair share of romantic affairs but none could ever compare to this. The immigrant gripped his hair and slightly tugged it, smirking when Thomas sinfully moaned, raising his hips to meet his thrusts. 

“Yes,” Alexander hissed. “Yes.”

The obscene sound of skin against skin filled the room, arousing the Virginian even more.

“Yes,” Thomas sang. “Yes.”

They both became a symphony of moans, whimpers and hissing. The familiar warmth was back again and Thomas cried out when Alexander wrapped his hand around his cock and started pumping in rhythm with his thrust. His nails grazed the immigrant’s back and before he knew it, his vision flashed white. He screamed Alexander’s name as he came, harder than he ever had before, clinging onto the smaller man as if his life depended on it. The Federalist met him there a couple of thrusts later, a low, guttural groan escaping from his lips. 

He collapsed on Thomas, and that’s when the older man realized how light he was, probably because he didn’t eat enough. Alexander kissed his collarbone, sucking on the tender skin and the Virginian was grateful that he was leaving a mark where he could actually hide it. Alexander left him to grab a humid piece of cloth and cleaned themselves, before throwing it on the ground and joining his lover back on the bed. 

“You were so good, so perfect for me, Thomas.” He murmured with heavy eyelids.

When Thomas fell asleep with Alexander in his arms the bed was no longer cold. He knew that he would probably go to hell for this, but despite everything, he did not regret it. After all, not all mortal men could be graced with a godsent and be satisfied with just observing the golden apple, without taking a bite in it.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -“Pourquoi vous fâcheriez-vous d’un sentiment que vous avez fait naître?” -> "Why would you be mad about a feeling you are the cause of?"  
> -mon doudou, simply because i’m french and that’s how I call my beloved.  
> -i ain't touching the Sally Hemmings affair even with a two feet pole.  
> -I love Polly Jefferson.
> 
> please tell me what you think of it because your comments give me life and i've worked so much on that chapter guys like i swear i sold my soul for that one. (:


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